


From Russia With Love

by lunarsugar



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Assassins & Hitmen, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Russian Mafia, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 27,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarsugar/pseuds/lunarsugar
Summary: John Wick is hired to take care of a family problem, a woman, whose father is an infamous Russian mafia patriarch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! This is my first attempt at a written work/fanfic. I hope you all enjoy!

I knew from a very young age that my father was a Bratva pakhan though my father swore to castrate any man who revealed this to me. It wasn’t hard to guess that he wasn’t simply a “businessman” when I had an armed escort follow me to my private school third grade class. Needless to say, I didn’t have many school aged friends growing up, but I did have Avgust, or Avy, as I fondly referred to him despite the fact that when I did, his lips drew up into a sneer, dark blue eyes wincing in disgust. Avy was a dangerous man. It was easy to tell in the way that the other men shrank away from Avy at a mere glance. I always wondered if he knew the kind of rapport that he carried with him. My father once told me that Avy was a member of the KCCO, who had been honorably discharged at his own behest. Why Avy wanted to leave, my father wouldn’t say, and how he got out was even more of a mystery because from why I’m told, members of the KCCO only left in body bags, which only added to the legend that was Avgust Mikhailov. Despite the terrors that Avy might have reigned on those who crossed him, Avy was kind to me, and he was one of the very few who cared about me for more than the wide eyed terror that my last name seemed to provoke.

Even so, my father did the very best he could to shield me from his unorthodox business practices, and I did the very best I could pretending not to know. Entire rooms full of men would fall silent when I would pass by a door, their tense whispers replaced with idle chatter about their poker hand, the sweet smell of cigar smoke intermixing with the sickeningly pungent odor of Nastoiki lingering in the midst of thick conversations, my father’s tight lipped smiles for me as he beckoned me,  
“Moy dorogoy,” My darling, please shut the door. I don’t want the smoke to make you sick.

My brother, Nikolai, was a strong willed boy, fiercely dedicated to my father, always seeking his approval in any way he could, and yet, my father always seemed so disappointed in his ventures whether they were too much or not enough, he never seemed pleased, and so Nikolai became bitter and resentful, a young boy trapped in a man’s body, drinking in shallow praise and wallowing in harsh disapproval. Even I could see that my father’s treatment of Nikolai was unfair, but he was my father. Honor thy father and thy...

Mother. Now, I knew her only from pictures, or fleeting memories, smells and sounds that remind me of her. She disappeared the day Nikolai turned eleven, and I still remember my mother’s armed escort bursting through the doors and out into the lavish gardens, my brother atop a glorious white steed, riding him around, while men and women milled around the garden grounds, another reason for a black tie affair. I was eighteen at the time, and my attention was focused on the gentle white beasts, stroking his snout, and placing my forehead to his. I remember the crowd suddenly falling silent as they parted, the small army of men making a quick beeline for my father. The head of the men spoke to my father in a tense, uncomfortable whisper, and my father did a most unnatural thing—he grasped the man’a shoulder, seeming to comfort him in his own way. My father nodded at the man as he stripped his gun from his holster, handing it to my father. My father nodded to the taller man next to him, and the crowd of men vanished once again, disappearing into the massive compound that we lived in. For a moment, a note of silence hung in the air, before the distinguished ladies and gentlemen resumed their conversations, seemingly unbothered by the chaotic scene. I didn’t find out until later that my mother had disappeared earlier the evening of Nikolai’s eleventh birthday. I always wondered if my father held a special resentment for Nikolai because of that. Needless to say, it didn’t help his cause, and I knew better than to ask my father about her because if I did, he would threaten to give me to Baba Yaga as a special treat.

Even now, twenty years later, as I sat across the dinner table from Nikolai, my father eating silently at the head of the table, I still felt the great strain under the weight of our family deeds and misdeeds. The silence was deafening as I realized, with the raise of my eyebrows and the clearing of my throat that there must have been another argument once again between father and son.

“Otets,” father, I began. My father glanced up at me from his plate, taking a long sip of red wine as he did so. “I understand that there is a building not far from here that has a magnificent library filled with all sorts of literature. Is it true that you’ve bought it?”

“Eto, it is, my darling.” He nodded, casting a sharp glance over at Nikolai. “I assume Nikolai told you of this business venture?”

Nikolai glared at me as he gulped down a third glass of red wine this evening. Of course he had told me. He had meant to insult me, calling me spoiled and selfish, asking when I would wake up and pull my head out of the sand for the millionth time, though my eyes were wide, wide open.

“No,” I lied, smiling at my father, eyes darting toward Nikolai, “I heard talk about it around town.”

Father cast a disgruntled glance and Nikolai and dismissed the conversation.

“Natalia,” my father summoned, and I looked up from my plate. He finished what he was eating, dabbed the corners of his mouth, and folded his hands on top of the table. “I need to see you in my office in ten minutes.”

With that, he rose from the table, tossing his napkin onto his plate. Both Nikolai and I watched him disappear into the lengthy corridor before Avy shut the door quietly behind him. Nikolai smirked at me deviously, and I felt my heart sink into the pit of my stomach. If there was one thing my father did not tolerate, it was liars, and Nikolai knew as well as I did that I had been caught.

“Might as well say goodbye to your penthouse in Manhattan after that atrocity of a lie.” Nikolai laughed, ferociously stabbing at a rare piece of steak bleeding on his plate. I glanced over at him, and then back down at my plate, suddenly losing my appetite. It was true that there was no wrath like my father’s, and that was a well known and well documented fact.

*****

My heart was in my throat as I knocked timidly on the heavy oak doors to my father’s office. My father was a kind man. He had never struck me or threatened me beyond the fairytale of the Baba Yaga, and yet his anger, though never directed at me, was unparalleled. He was a man of intense will for if he willed it, it was done. There was no changing his mind.

“Voyti.” Enter.

Cautiously, I peeked over at Avy, who gave me a slight nod and entered the room first, as always. I followed a few short moments later and came face to face with my father. The chair he sat in was massive, more of a throne than a chair in itself, intricate carvings of angels and demons waging war on each other in the never ending battle of good vs evil and judgement day captured by the nimble hand of a visionary in a dark cherry wood. It was fitting that my father should be sitting in this chair, for he made many tough decisions and changed the course of many a life from this single room

I licked my lips and took a deep breath to steady myself before saying,

“You—wanted to see me, father?”

My father sat forward, taking a crystal decanter and taking the lid off of it, pouring the amber liquid into a similar crystal glass.

“Yes,” he replied, placing the lid back onto the decanter and sitting back in his chair. He smiled at me, swirling the whiskey in his glass thoughtfully. “My darling, in all of the years that I have worked in my profession I have seen liars and cheats of all kinds, and I must say that you, Natalia, are the worst liar I have ever encountered.”

He laughed a little, easing the tension that I had felt upon entering the room.

“Yes, father. It’s one of my many faults.”

“Ah, but you see, on that we disagree. Being a liar has many advantages, but I find that one honest man or woman is worth more than a hundred liars. It’s commendable that you’re not a liar. You have these—morals—morals I haven’t seen since your mother disappeared. You have this passion and drive for the things and the people that you love.”

“Thank you, father.”

“Natalia—I know that you know what I do. I know that you know that it’s more than just business—that it can mean doing some...unsavory things.”

My father rose from his desk and rounded it, looking at the pictures on his walls, mementoes on the shelves that he had kept over the years. For a moment, he was lost in thought. I waited, unsure of what to say or do—unsure why he was telling me these things and if I should admit I knew or remain silent.

“I have built an empire for my family—one that some fear, some envy, but all respect. When I thought about what I wanted to be known for, it wasn’t for the things I said or the bad things I had done—it was for the good things that I would do—the good things that I wanted you to do.”

My eyes widened in shock.

“When I leave, Natalia, whether it’s the business or whether I take my leave from the world, everything I have. Everything I am. Everything I own. I want to give it to you.”

My mouth fell open and my heart leapt as I felt the weight of those words pushing down on my thoughts and feelings. My hands flew up to my mouth as tears welled up in my eyes. My father took my hands, kissing me on both cheeks before saying,

“You will lead my empire.”

I turned my attention to Avy, body shaking as I collapsed into the chair. Avy made his way over to me in a few long strides as father sat in his desk, taking a sip of his drink. Avy placed a firm, comforting hand on my shoulder, and my father smiled, putting his glasses on, and getting straight to work at his desk.

***

Outside of the door, Nikolai balled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth in defiance. Stalking down the hallway, he jabbed his hand into his pocket, producing his cell phone. With a few quick jabs, he dialed, putting the phone up to his ear. It rang once, followed by the silence of someone awaiting instruction on the other end.

“Opekun,” he snarled into the phone. “Find John Wick and bring him to me. Tell him I want to make a deal: my sister’s head for the dissolution of the excommunicado.”


	2. An Intriguing Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikolai Kuznetsova has an intriguing proposition for John Wick...his sister’s head for dissolution of the excommunicado...but things are never as easy as they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re back for chapter two, thank you again for reading. In this chapter, we get to see what’s going on in John Wick’s world.

Wick  
It wasn’t long before the Bowery Kingdom was brimming with talk about the dissolution of my excommunicado. Somehow, it seemed too good to be true—like there was more of a possibility I was being lured out. Still, the minute I saw a man I didn’t recognize waving a phone around and pointing at me, I decided what the hell?

Putting the phone up to my ear, I listened intently:

“Mr. Wick?”

I said nothing.

“I have a proposition for you. I have a little problem I need resolved, and I trust you are the man to do it. Her name is Natalia Kuznetsova.”

Kuznetsova—a powerful crime family who had been operating in the area for decades. They were a respectable family, but when crossed were a legion of hellfire demons.

“Kill Natalia and your excommunicado is lifted.”

“How do I know you’ll keep to your word?” I growled. Just as I finished, cell phones started alerting all around me, including the one I was currently talking on. I held the phone back and read the message:

John Wick. Excommunicado lifted for 72 hours. 

I put my ear back to the phone.

“My family honors their word, Mr. Wick. Artem should have all of the information you need. I’ll see you in three days.”

With that, the line disconnected and a yellow envelope was thrust into my hands. I stuffed the phone into my pocket as Artem disappeared.

****

“Well, if it isn’t the recently freed Mr. Wick.” I glanced up from my reading to see the Bowery King approaching, flanked, as usual, by his riffraff. “Tell me, John. What’s the first thing you’ll do as a temporarily free man? Gonna go to Disneyland?”

The Bowery King’s laughs echoed off of the walls of the sewers, and his riffraff laughed in unison. 

“Actually, I thought I’d go back to work.” I told him. “Vacations don’t really suit me.”

“So there is a method to the madness. And who do you have the pleasure of putting in the ground this time?”

I looked up at the Bowery King, and he held my stare for quite a while. There was no getting out of this disclosure. I closed the file on Natalia Kuznetsova and handed it over to the Bowery King. He glared at me for a moment, a crazed smirk on his face before flipping open the file.

“I see you’ve turned over a new leaf, Mr. Wick.” I could see he was taking pleasure in whatever secret knowledge that he had. I raised an eyebrow in question. “I always thought the murder of innocents wasn’t your thing, but I could be wrong...though I’ve never been wrong before.”

“The Kuznetsovas are the farthest thing from innocent.” I mumbled. I leaned back against the filth of the slime walls in the sewer, the warmth of the trash can fire before me giving me a break from the pain of my injuries.

“Natalia isn’t your standard Kuznetsova. In fact, she’s the opposite. Her father didn’t want her involved in that delightful family business of theirs.”

“You’re telling me she doesn’t know?”

“Oh no. I’m not saying she doesn’t know. I’m saying she’s not involved.”

The Bowery King flipped the file shut, handing it back to me. 

“Might want to do some research and ask around before you do something you might regret, Johnny Boy.” 

And with that, the Bowery King was gone. I flipped the file back open, taking a look at the picture of Natalia, a candid shot of her sitting in the garden of her family’s compound. She was looking off in the distance at something, an array of roses making up the background of the picture. Her long hair fell in gentle waves past her shoulders. She wore a gauzy white dress, exposing her collarbone down and shoulders, the even sharpness of her jaw contrasting with the smoothness of her skin. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” I whipped a pistol out, pointing it in the direction of the voice. Out of the shadows stepped a younger man with a sharp jaw. Dark, well groomed hair and a well-tailored Italian suit graced his form. I recognized him immediately—Nikolai Kuznetsova. “My sister has been the talk of many a meetings. I’m well aware that she’s wanted by many...and even the Baba Yaga himself seems taken by her.”

I lowered my pistol, intent on listening.

“So you want your sister dead?” It was a matter of fact, not a statement. Nikolai put his hands in his pockets and smirked a little.

“She has something that rightfully belongs to me, and until she’s dead, it won’t be mine.” He told me. It occurred to me he was likely talking about a will or inheritance. It was a selfish thing, but not uncommon for those used to getting everything they wanted for nothing. He leaned against the wall near me. “Our compound is heavily secured, and I have no plans to reduce that security.”

“You want it to seem like an outside job.” I clarified. Nikolai smiled in acquiescence.

“It’s important to me that my father sees me as a man who could fill his shoes once he takes his leave in the very near future.” Nikolai examined his nails nonchalantly as he spoke, and something in me felt the urge to rip his nails from his fingers.

“Then I’m not the only one involved?” I clarified.

“I prefer to let these events...unfold on their own in due time.”

“I don’t work with others.”

“So I’m told.”

I cast a sharp glance in his direction and watch his smirk immediately disappear from his face as he straightened up against the pillar. From the shadows, two faces emerged—his bodyguards, no doubt. It suddenly became clear to me what would happen. I would kill Natalia and her father would be killed soon after but not before placing a hefty bounty on my head. It was clear the excommunicado would be lifted after I had done my due diligence, but Kuznetsova ties run deep, and his reach extended to the high table. I was fucked if I did and fucked if I didn’t, and the thought of that was enough to enrage me.

“I’m going to make one thing clear. I don’t kill innocents, no matter what the reward is. I don’t care what you’re offering, but I especially don’t like knowing that a kid like you would come parading into my territory with his guns, encroaching on my turf to make me a deal knowing damned good and well that his whole purpose was to fuck me over in the end.” I seethed, standing up and taking a few steps toward him. The sound of safeties going off all at once echoed in the room. Nikolai pushed off of the wall and sauntered his way over to me, smiling in my face.

“So, are you telling me that’s a no then?” He smiled, leaning up toward me as his bodyguards emerged from the shadows, guns drawn.

“No.” I hissed through my teeth. Nikolai’s smile grew Cheshire-like, obviously pleased with his threat. “I’m telling you that’s a, “Go fuck yourself.’”

With that, I drew my pistol, shooting both guards, followed by a headbutt to Nikolai’s smug face. He fell to the ground, holding his nose, which was clearly broken. 

“I’m only going to tell you this once: get the fuck out and never darken my fucking door again. Consider this a professional courtesy.” I gritted my teeth, shooting him in the shoulder as he cried out in pain. 

Nikolai scrambled to his feet, skittering toward the door. I shot the doorframe to grab his attention, and Nikolai whirled around, panic flashing across his eyes.

“If I ever see you again,” I murmured, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

And with that, he was out the door. It wasn’t long before I heard the all too familiar ping of a text message announcing my bounty at a pretty staggering figure.

Professional courtesy or not, I would kill Nikolai Kuznetsova. And I would do it with pleasure.


	3. Inside the Compound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Wick plans on delivering on his promise to find and kill Nikolai Kuznetsova.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Welcome back. This chapter is from John Wick’s point of view. I will be going back and forth between John and Natalia’s point of view.

The Yakuza members were already inside of the compound by the time I reached it. I would need to move quickly if I was going to reach Nikolai before they became a problem. My point of entry was already decided for me--the upstairs balcony. The doors were wide open, inviting me inside, and if an invitation presented itself, then I guess it would be rude to turn it down--not to mention it seemed like the Yakuza had already done the dirty work of getting rid of the detail before I had to do anything else. Seeing as though I was low on supplies as it stood, the favor was appreciated.

I entered the room silently, using the shadows to my advantage. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that in a heavily secured compound like this one, sticking to the shadows and out of the view of cameras. I was just about to reach the door, when a quick movement out of the corner of my eye caused me to freeze, silently crouching in the corner of the room. Natalia was wide awake, her eyes flicking around the room, chest heaving quickly. Something had spooked her. Another movement caught my attention from the top of a heavy armoire--a man, dressed all in black crouched like a panther waiting to strike, watching her tear her blankets from her legs and move toward the balcony.

“Lenin?” I heard her call out. Lenin’s dead. I thought to myself. Natalia clutched at her nightgown nervously, creeping around the balcony like she was lost. I watched as the Yakuza man scaled down the armoire silently, his movements little more than hushed skating across the floor. Wrong place. Wrong time. The assassin would need to die if I were going to have any chance of things going smoothly. I pulled my belt off, deciding it would be best to save ammunition and strike silently. Just as he passed in front of me, I shot out of the darkness, wrapping my belt around his neck and pulling hard. He began to fumble for his weapon, but the noise of a discharged weapon wasn’t going to work for me. With a quick one-two jerking motion, the neck was broken without another issue. Quickly, I searched his body, gathering his two guns, his machete, and any extra ammunition that he was carrying. He wouldn’t be needing it anymore anyway. 

Suddenly, another man appeared from the darkness, reaching into his jacket for his weapon. I hadn’t seen him before. Italian maybe? Either way, from what I knew, Natalia didn’t deserve to die. She was an innocent, despite her father’s and brother’s misgivings. All I could hope was that there weren’t anymore men in her room, waiting in the shadows, but it was hard to tell. The sheer size of her room meant that there could have been a hundred men lying in wait, but I figured that there weren’t many more. Natalia was an easy target--untrained and unaware.

I crossed the room quickly, just as he began to draw his weapon. I would need to act fast. In a second, my weapon was out, silencer on, and I pulled the trigger. The man fell to the ground behind her without a second issue, and I emerged from the darkness. Natalia was clearly in shock.

“Baba yaga.” I heard her whisper. So she knew me. I holstered my weapon and held my hands up in the air, trying to show her that I wasn’t a threat to her, but I could see that my reputation preceded me. Natalia shrank to the ground,falling backward against the balcony railing, her nightgown covered in Italian man’s blood.

“I’m not here for you.” I told her, kneeling down next to her. “But there are others here who are.”

“My father…” Natalia started.

“Is well protected. You’re not.” I took this moment to search the body of the Italian man, collecting his weapons. The shock seemed to have worn off for Natalia. She stood up from the ground, warily searching her surroundings. It’s a little late for that. I thought.

Holstering the larger weapons and extra ammunition, I checked the bullet count on the pistol.

“Do you know how to use this?” I asked her, shaking the weapon a bit in my hand. Natalia nodded, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I handed her the pistol, and she quickly flipped the safety off and pointed it at me. I sighed, snatching it out of her hand. “I already told you I’m not here for you, but if you threaten me again, I’ll kill you.”

I handed her the pistol back, and she smirked at me. I started toward the door to her bedroom, when I heard her harsh whisper,

“Where are you going?”

“To take care of a problem.” I grunted.

“My brother?” Her voice wavered a little. I turned around and met her eyes.

“Your brother is the reason you almost met your maker tonight.” I told her. Something in her eyes told me she already knew this. Her shoulders went lax, and I could see that proud Kuznetsova spirit deflating even as I spoke. “He’s also put a bounty out on me and your father.”

“He knows.” She whispered. I nodded, turning away from her again to resume my task. I heard a quick set of footsteps behind me scurrying to keep up with my strides. It seemed I had a shadow. I whirled around on her, squaring my shoulders, and taking two large strides toward her. Natalia held her ground, unflinching as I came toe to toe with her. I looked into her soft, hazel eyes, and they looked right back into mine. Usually, I was a good study, able to understand what people were thinking, which worked to my advantage, but with her, that just wasn’t the case. Intimidation wasn’t going to work on her.

“Stay here.” I seethed at her.

“No.” It was a simple response, effective, but not the one I was looking for. I considered my options: I could kill her here and now and get rid of an annoying problem at the expense of my morals. I could tie her to her bed, forcing her to stay, but that wouldn’t guarantee my safety because she could scream at anytime, which would present a different set of problems, not to mention it would render her helpless against an assailant. Or, I could just…

“Do what you want, but your death is not on my hands.” 

I watched her stand a little straighter with indignance.

“I don’t need your protection, John Wick. And I certainly don’t need your consent.” she spat. Such arrogance--and that hatred. I almost felt a little bothered by it...almost. I nodded in response. Silently, I reached out for the door handle, turning it carefully. Weapon drawn, I quickly made my way out into the hallway. The Yakuza had made quick work of the night detail in Natalia’s hallway, and they had shut off the power to the compound, making sure to work how they did best--in the shadows.

Behind me, I heard a quick scuffle as a quick pair of hands wrapped around Natalia’s throat, dragging her into the shadows. Natalia flailed, clawing at her attacker to no avail. I watched her make a sharp fist and jab her elbow into the side of her assailant, who stumbled a bit. Without thinking, I sprang toward her attacker, drawing my blade for a quick slash to the sides before making a clean cut across the neck. Natalia stumbled backward into the wall. I glared at her and she glared right back, sucking in deep breaths.

If this is how things were going to go, her brother would be halfway to Russia, and her father would be six feet under. Natalia pushed herself off of the wall, adjusting her nightgown and wiping a bit of blood off of her brow onto her sleeve. I’ll give her this—she was a fighter.

“My father’s study is just down the stairs.” She told me.

“And what does that have to do with me?” I sneered. I was beginning to grow impatient with her distractions.

“Because, tupitsa, this is personal. And when it’s personal for my family, we handle it ourselves face to face.” She smirked.

“Call me a dumbass again, and you’re on your own.” My voice was smooth like silk, but name calling didn’t sit well with me.

“I thought I already was.” She stared me down bravely, even daring to take a step toward me. For a moment, I felt a quick flutter go through me at the sight of her sticking her smug little nose up in the air at me. I scoffed, and we made our way down to her father’s office.

****

In the corridor to her father’s office is when we ran into our first set of issues with the Yakuza. They weren’t stupid enough to leave the office unguarded. That’s what they were paid for, but the issue would be getting to them quietly. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention and force the murder of her father to go even more quickly much less tip Nikolai off that I was on my way in, and while it was my normal style to go in guns a blazing, it just wasn’t going to work this time.

The corridor was long. There were no corners to hide in and many doors along the way. I had to anticipate that there could be an assailant behind any of the doors. In any case, a hallway had to be thought of as the veins of a building, where the flow of blood cells, or people, in this instance, was a certainty. I knew from my time in the military that taking on a hallway alone was typically ill advised, but I had done it before. When we are talking tactics, that left me with little choice other than to take the hallway as a team, and tactically, I had better odds this way. The main issue was that I only had one person on my “team,” which was already a disadvantage to begin with because I prefer to work alone, and to top it off, her combat experience was pretty much zero. But anything was better than nothing...unless “anything” involved a stubborn Russian woman hellbent on getting herself killed in the process of watching her father get killed.

“We’re going to take this hallway together quietly.” I told her. She leaned in close, nodding to me. I could see her shaking a little. I guess it was normal for someone not used to doing this to feel that bit of adrenaline and maybe even a little shock. I reached out and touched her hand, looking into her eyes. “Steady.”

She nodded at me. She closed her eyes, collecting herself for a second and nodded.

“I’m ready.” She said. “Tell me what to do.”


	4. The Compound Assault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Natalia fight their way toward her father’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natalia’s point of view.

There were many thoughts racing through my mind as John Wick steadied my shaking hand. I felt like he was under the impression that I was afraid of what was to come, but that just wasn’t the case. I was angry beyond words that my brother chose this path—that he would choose to kill my father, the man who had given him everything and anything he had ever wanted. What a selfish prick. There were so many ways this could have gone differently. I knew that Nikolai and father had a strained relationship, and in truth, I shouldn’t be all that surprised that this was the route he took. After all, it was what he had learned from my father, yet still, I had expected a different outcome.

“Focus, Natalia.” John Wick pulled me out of my thoughts. “The rooms along the hallway—what are they?”

I pictured the hallway in my mind and the many times I had walked through it.

“Meeting room, billiards, and bathroom on the right. Smoker’s lounge, bar, and another bathroom on the left.” I told him. Six different places men could be lurking. John considered what I said. I could see him running through it in his mind, before he nodded.

“First thing’s first, Natalia.” His arm came up close to his body, showing me how to keep my gun at the ready. “Always have your gun up and at the ready. While we are going through this hallway, never put your weapon down, and don’t put it in front of your face or you’ll miss the threats in your lower field of vision until they start shooting at you.”

I nodded, imitating his stance. I wondered if I should tell him that Avy trained me on all this before, but John was a man. He thought I was a frail little printsessa, and for the time, I supposed I could use a refresher on the information. Besides, it was interesting to hear it from the Baba Yaga himself. 

“My weapon doesn’t have a sight. Yours does. Even though the sight is there for you to use for accuracy, don’t spend your time looking through the sight as you progress. You lose sight of the rest of your surroundings. Only use the sight when you see a reason to use it.” He explained. “Most of our targets are going to be low—crouching, sitting on couches, under tables. These are trained men who know how to remain out of sight.”

I peeked around the corner, mapping out the hallway and assessing the immediate threats. The hallway seemed empty, but I was well aware by now that everything is not as it seems. I nodded once again at John, seeing that he was ready to continue his lesson. Feeling impatient and feeling like I didn’t want to be losing my father while he rambled on with these ochevidnyy mantras, I cut him off impatiently, 

“Slow, steady, minimize exposure, maximize efficiency.”

John raised his eyebrows and I continued,

“Threshold check. Near threat check. Far threat check. From there, one area at a time. I am the assailant, they are the defender. The battleground is theirs until I make it mine.”

I watched John scratch an imaginary itch in his scruff, the chagrin on his face apparent. I leaned forward a little more and watched him grow uncomfortable at the close quarters as I whispered,

“And I will make it mine.”

John held the intensity of my gaze for just a moment longer, and I relished in the sensation of making the great Baba Yaga feel uncomfortable before I leaned back, checking my bullet count once more. I went through my aiming ritual, performing a stabbing motion with the gun and turning it sideways to get a feel for the weapon. Then, I readied my gun, and flipped the safety off. 

“Let’s do this.” John said. I felt a twinge of excitement and a flutter in my chest at the thrill of doing something so dangerous. It was a side of me I didn’t even realize existed until today. The thought of alongside the Baba Yaga sent the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach into an absolute frenzy. Maybe I should consider doing something like this with my life. Maybe I was meant to be violent and sadistic like my father’s legacy. Maybe it was in my blood. 

“John,” I whispered, John looked over his shoulder at me, and my lips turned into a wicked smile, “I’ll take left.”

I could see him considering arguing with me, but with limited options available, John simply nodded in acquiescence.

We moved slowly and stealthily, he on the right, while I stuck to the left wall. We both paused in front of the first door. The door was open, which would force both of us to enter the rooms and assess the threat. It was far more dangerous not to clear a hallway and have the threats at our backs than it was to deal with them outright, one painstaking room at a time. My heart was pounding as I whirled around the doorframe and came face to face with a dark room. I was all too familiar with the smoker’s lounge, and the pungent smell of old cigar and cigarette smoke caused my stomach to turn. It seemed to be everywhere—in the old green and gold wallpaper and the deep wood wainscoting and the velvet lined deep burgundy couches, chairs, and chaises spread neatly around the room, in the thick blood colored velvet curtains that dressed the hardwood floor to gold ceiling windows. 

My eyes scanned the room for any movement or unusual shapes. None could be found, but that didn’t eliminate the risk in the corners that I couldn’t see. Quickly, I rolled into the room, checking left and right in my blind corners where two men crouched at the ready. Thankful I had a silencer and the element of surprise, I aimed quickly left and right, firing off two silent shots and downing the two men in the corners. From there, I searched the bodies, taking a combat knife, a stun grenade, and two pistols. 

Beneath my nightgown, I had two drop thigh holsters, where I placed my extra combat knife and two pistols. I had just finished adjusting my nightgown back over my thighs when I heard a soft sound behind me. In a quick second, I cocked my pistol, whirling around and aiming, only to be met with a quick hand across the pistol, temporarily knocking my hand to the side, and a gun to my temple. John Wick stood at the ready, and I glared at him, seething,

“What the fuck, John?”

“I thought you knew how to handle a combat situation?” He was mocking me, and it was really pissing me off. What pissed me off even more was the fact that John was clearly here because he thought I couldn’t protect myself. I made a quick chopping motion at his hand, grabbing the barrel of the gun and pushing it away from my body, retaliating with a quick palm, shoving up to break the nose, followed by a quick chop to the throat. John staggered a moment, before regaining his composure. Using the sleeve of his jacket, he wiped the blood from his nose.

“I don’t need your help.” I growled at him. John adjusted his coat, nodding in response and making his way toward the door. We had to retake the hallway again.

***

Taking the last two rooms went much like the first room without John Wick’s unnecessary interference. It wasn’t until we got outside of father’s office door that I began to feel the unwelcome nag of anxiety. What if he was already dead? What would I do without him? What if he was still alive? What would happen to Nikolai? How would I command my father’s empire? Would I even be worthy to lead? So many questions and thoughts raced through my mind, but I forced them away. 

“We breach on three.” John whispered. I nodded, and we both turned to face the double doors to father’s office, ready to kick them in. I produced the stun grenade from my holster. John looked at me for a moment, then at the stun grenade and nodded, turning back to the door.

“One.” Breathe in, steady.

“Two.” Breath out, focus.

“Three.” In a swift, simultaneous motion, I popped the top of the grenade, discarding the top to the side, kicked the door in with a hard jolt, and tossed the flash bang into my father’s office.


	5. Uvidimsya v Adu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Natalia confront Nikolai, who has taken his father hostage.

The flash bang went off with a succession of quick bangs. Like the man that he is, John Wick went first to no one’s surprise. When I entered the room, a few things happened. I was well aware that I only had about 10 seconds to assess the situation in the room as we entered. Time seemed to slow down as I mentally tagged each person in the room: 3 men on the left, fumbling for their weapons, 3 men on the right, fumbling for their weapons, 4 men in the back, 3 with weapons drawn and aimed. 

I made quick work of the three people on the left side executing three shots straight in the head. John cleared the right side of the room. All that remained were the four people left in the back: Nikolai, who stood to the right side of my father with a gun pointed to his head, my father who was calmly sitting at the desk, a lit cigar burning in one hand and whiskey waiting in the same crystal tumbler seemingly unbothered by the gun pointed to his head, Avy standing on the left side of my father pointing a gun at Nikolai, and Milos, Nikolai’s personal guard, who stood beside Nikolai pointing a gun at Avy.

A flurry of emotions swept over Nikolai’s face as we entered the room: shock at the stun grenade just tossed into the room, annoyance as his eyes studied my face, and intimidation at the sight of John Wick standing beside me. I watched his shoulders rise toward his ears, a clear indicator that he was worried. If I knew anything about my brother it was that he carried the world on his shoulders—places of pain, worry, anger, solace—it was all told in the position of his shoulders. A mask of ease and cockiness fell into place on his face.

“Sister,” Nikolai purred, “good to see you alive. No doubt Mr. Wick’s doing.”

John glanced over in my direction and I smirked,

“Actually, ty durak, your little Japanese friends were dead long before Baba Yaga arrived.”

It was a white lie, but seeing Nikolai’s smug smile unfold into a sneer made the comment well worth it.

“Let’s make this simple.” Nikolai suggested, “You tell your malen'kaya suka, Avgust, to stand down, and we talk. Simple and clean.”

Avy’s eyes darkened, and his mouth curved into a sinister smile. My mind raced with what I should do. If I told Avy to stand down, my father would be defenseless. There’s no way either John or I could react fast enough to save him if Nikolai pulled the trigger. On the other hand, if I didn’t tell Avy to stand down, Nikolai would shoot him no matter what. At least telling him to stand down afforded my father a chance.

“Avgust,” My father’s voice was gruff, “stoyat' vniz.”

Avy regarded my father intently for a few moments before turning his glare to my brother. Reluctantly, Avy put his gun down. Nikolai nodded over his shoulder at Milos and both of them stood down as well.

“Now then,” Nikolai smiled, opening his arms out wide, “this is family business, so family should handle it.”

His message was loud and clear. I turned my gaze to John, whose eyes bored holes into my brother.

“Now, Mr. Wick,” Nikolai chastised, “let’s not do anything we might regret.”

John glared for a moment longer at Nikolai, then turned to me, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me toward him. His grip was fervent, and I locked eyes with him.

“I’m not leaving.” He growled. “Not until he’s dead.”

Suddenly, Nikolai whipped his pistol across my father’s face and slammed his face into the desk. I cried out in shock and horror at his violent actions. I knew what my brother wanted and what he was like. I knew he would hurt my father given the opportunity, but to see it actually happen and be unable to do anything but watch was more than I could stand.

“Please,” I pleaded with John. “Please, leave.”

A flash of concern ran through John’s eyes. His hand raised for a moment as if to touch my cheek, but, thinking better of it, he dropped it back down to his side. With one final glare at Nikolai, he muttered,

“I’ll be right outside.”

With that John, Avy, and Milos exited the room, shutting the door behind them. My father pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, dabbing at the blood from the cuts on the bridge of his nose, and his lip. From there, he took a long swig of his whiskey, grimacing at the feeling of the alcohol burning on his lip. With a gentle ease, he uncorked the decanter, and poured himself another glass.

“This is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, my son.” Father remarked, replacing the lid on the decanter. At that, I almost laughed. It was so absurd. My father, who had been threatened with his life, and was still being threatened with his life, had enough gall to chastise his son at this very moment. Even Nikolai seemed taken aback by it. I watched his lips form a thin line in rage, and he cocked the gun once again, pointing it straight at father.

“Nikolai, don’t.” Urgency flooded through my voice, and at that, Nikolai whirled, turning the gun on me.

“You. This is all because of you. Don’t speak. Don’t involve yourself. I’ll deal with you later. In the meantime,” His hand shook as he spoke. “Put your gun down, and kick it over here.”

I hesitated a moment, looking at father, who nodded. At that, I raised my hands in surrender, placing the gun down, and kicking it across the floor toward Nikolai. Nikolai returned his attention to father.

“I have given everything to you. I gave you my life. I killed for you. I worked endless hours and endless nights putting my life on the line for you. I have done everything you ever asked me to, and it was never enough for you.” Nikolai was shouting at this point. Father regarded Nikolai with passive dismissal, picking up his cigar and taking a long drag from it, standing from his chair to face Nikolai and blowing the smoke in his face.

“Oh, my boy,” Father smiled, putting one hand in his pocket, the other waving a cigar around as he spoke. “You have killed, and you have done all of the things I have asked of you. You were also rewarded handsomely, given cars, women, night clubs, and luxury items—everything you ever wanted.”

Nikolai was shaking with uncontained rage as father paced around him like a predator around his prey.

“But the truth of the matter is,” father continued, stopping face to face with my brother. He reached out, adjusting Nikolai’s tie and dusting off a bit of lint on his shoulder, “You’re not cut out to lead the family business.”

Father shrugged, taking a step forward, daring Nikolai to do something.

“In fact,” father continued, “when given the chance, you would run this business straight into the ground, sully our family name, and take everyone down with you.”

The hurt in Nikolai’s eyes was apparent as he took a step back, not daring to look my father in the eyes. For a moment, I felt sorry for him, wanting to reach out and hug my little brother as I had when he was growing up and father had been hard on him. I wanted to give the business to him, let him have it, and forget this whole mess ever happened. We could have figured something out, but the time for compromise was over. This was an all or nothing situation.

“Nikolai,” father’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and Nikolai’s eyes met my father’s. “Let’s put all of this behind us. Let’s start over. I know I have been hard on you, and I know things haven’t been easy. You were, understandably, disappointed by my decision to give the business to Natalia. If we can just end this madness now, perhaps we could figure something out. Maybe come to some sort of arrangement?”

Father reached his hand out for a handshake. Nikolai seemed confused and taken aback. I could see the wheels in his head turning as he considered his options. I wanted to step in and be a voice of reason, but I knew I would just make things worse. 

Nikolai reluctantly reached his hand out and shook father’s hand, pulling him into a tight embrace. My heart fluttered in relief, and I felt my lips curl into a relieved smile.

“I’m sorry, father.” Nikolai whispered. At that moment, the world seemed to slow down, and I watched as Nikolai raised his gun to my father’s temple.

“Uvidimsya v adu.” Nikolai growled, pulling the trigger. A loud, piercing scream erupted from my throat as my knees suddenly gave way, and I dropped to the ground. Behind me, the doors slammed open, and Avy and John sprinted into the room, guns at the ready.

I crawled over to my father, cradling his body in my arms, and hugging him tightly, the sickening smell of blood, cigar, and whiskey intermingling in my nose, father’s blood soaking through my nightgown. Nikolai had disappeared, and Milos was dead in the hallway. 

“Father,” I whispered, touching his face gently. Somewhere in the compound, the sound of a stun grenade going off broke the heavy silence.

“Natalia, we have to go.” The urgency of Avy’s voice resonated in my soul, but my legs refused to move. I felt frozen in place, my body and mind completely numb.

“Natalia.” John’s voice was soft. I looked up, meeting his eyes, but somehow felt unable to comprehend what was happening. Empathy and understanding were in his eyes. He knew what it was like to lose someone. He understood this pain better than anyone.

“Avgust,” John’s voice was sharp, and Avy turned his attention to John. “I’ll take her out of the compound to safety.”

“Yebat' tebya,” Avy sneered. John squared his shoulders toward Avy as gunfire broke out somewhere near the front door of the compound. It was a battle of wills, both of them pulling in different directions for a common cause.

“Pereyekhat'! Pereyekhat'! Move! Move!” The sound of shouting over the gunfire. Russian men—reinforcements had arrived, but too late.

“You don’t let me take her, you risk her getting caught in the crossfire and killed.” John hissed. “Besides, these are your men. They trust you. They don’t trust me. My both want the same thing. You have my word I will keep her safe.”

Avy grimaced, realizing that John was right despite his misgivings. He then nodded at John, who grabbed my upper arm. How dare this man try to take me away from my father. I needed space. I needed to be alone to grieve. I clutched my father’s jacket, jerking my arm away from John, seething,

“Leave me alone!”

John set his jaw in frustration, sighing, and running a hand through his hair. Avy and John locked eyes and he nodded at John, who said,

“You leave me with no choice, then.”

With that, John rushed at me. I stood quickly, throwing a mean right hook at his face, screaming at him like a wild animal. The satisfaction of my fist connecting with his jaw heightened the need to fight, forcing me to grit my teeth, my arms flailing with enraged punches, grief tearing through my body as John caught my arms, spinning me toward his body, and wrapping me in a bear hug, before twisting my flailing body up and throwing me over his shoulder, heading toward the fire escape. As we left, I focused on my father one last time, his face peaceful, warm rivers of blood pooling around his head. At that moment, the struggle left my body, and i went rigid as it became clear to me that my destiny had found me. I would take over the family business, and I would do so gladly. I would find my brother, creeping through the shadows in his life, stalking him, haunting his dreams. I would make his life a living hell and once I has taken away his money and his livelihood, I would take his security and peace of mind. I would make sure that he died a lonely, paranoid bastard, and I would bathe in his misery. And when I killed him, I would bathe in his blood.

As the Baba Yaga carried me away from my nightmare, my purpose was crystal clear:

I would kill my brother...and I would revel in every last drop of his agony.


	6. A History of Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia struggles to cope with the loss of her father, and John Wick bares the brunt of her grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re still with me, thank you for reading. I really appreciate you. 
> 
> From John’s point of view.

The Kuznetsova family was and always had been a family with a history of dealing with their problems through the exertion of violence. It wasn’t really all that much of a surprise that when I tried to move the grieving Russian Kuznetsova heiress that I received a well executed right hook to the face along with a quick succession of blows raining down on me afterward. People had a way of dealing with grief in their own way, and Natalia’s way, as she had been taught or learned from example, was to resort to violence and extreme exertions of energy until all of the grief was drained from her frail frame for the time being. I had expected all of these things, but I hadn’t expected her to go completely rigid when I threw her over my shoulder. I worried that I might have been too rough on her and subsequently knocked her out, but as we made our way down the fire escape and I stole a glance into the reflection of the windows as we passed, I saw that her eyes were wide open, her mouth set in a hard grimace.

I knew that expression well. The night Helen died, when the void left in Helen’s wake had filled with rage, I distinctly remember the same look reflected in my face in the mirror in front of me...and I hated that memory. I guess the Kuznetsova woman and I were kindred spirits in that way.

Almost immediately after I deposited Natalia into the car, my cell phone rang—a number I didn’t recognize. I glanced over at Natalia who sat in the darkness staring out the window, and I put the phone up to my ear.

“I trust you made it safely to the car?” It was her bodyguard. I grunted in response.

“Khorosho.” Avgust’s gravely voice held a bit of relief at that. There was a brief silence on the line, before he said,

“Natalia’s bounty has gone up significantly, and so has yours. It seems that wherever you go, you’re determined to bring everyone else down with you.”

A dark chuckle resonated over the line. I couldn’t fault him for this logic. It did seem that wherever I went, the people that I cared about seemed to die. Maybe I really was cursed, and if that was the case, I would unleash that curse on Nikolai Kuznetsova.

“On that we agree.” I told him.

“Still. She’s safer with you than she would be with me.” He grumbled. I know this must have been a difficult thing for him to admit considering who he was and what he was known for in their family. Avy was a beast in his own right. “You’re smart, Mr. Wick. Focused. You won’t stop until the job is done. And I know it will be done.”

“It will.” I promised.

“One more thing, Mr. Wick.” He said. I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “Natalia is a lot tougher and much more skilled than you might think. I trained her well, and she’s quite accomplished.”

“I know.” I agreed.

“But take heed. She might seem controlled, but inside she is anything but. She will fight you. Her rage will get the better of her, and if you let that rage go unchecked, it will kill her, and I will kill you.” He told me. He knew her well, and he cared for her—enough to trust her to a potential enemy with similar interests. I already knew without him even needing to tell me that if anything happened to her, he would have my head on a stick...or at least he would try.

“Understood.” I smiled.

“Uvidimsya.” He murmured, and the line went dead. I’ll be seeing you. I knew I would be seeing him—likely sooner rather than later, but he was smart enough to know that he was the first person they would go to to find Natalia and now me. 

Logically, it made sense for Natalia to stay with me. It would put both of us at risk if I chose to hand her back to the Russians, not to mention, the Russians were falling apart from the inside. The only person that could be trusted with her safety was Avgust. 

Using the few connections I had left that wouldn’t betray me, or from what I felt like wouldn’t, we traveled deep into forested territory and to a safe house out in the middle of nowhere. I was careful not to lead anyone to the house and careful enough to be well aware of our surroundings as we made our way to the house.

Not wasting any time, Natalia made her way straight to the alcohol. 

“Natalia, I don’t think drinking is the best idea right now.” I reached out toward the decanter, easing my way toward her like I was approaching a feral cat. 

“Fuck you, John. Get away from me.” Natalia spat, shrugging me off, the whiskey in the decanter sloshing out of the glass rim and onto her bloodied clothes.

“I will as soon as you give me the whiskey.” I made a quick rush toward the whiskey, completely missing her and narrowly dodging an elbow jab straight to the face, but not avoiding a second jab to the back as I stumbled past her. When I whirled back around, the whiskey was out of her hands, and she was in a defensive position. There was no avoiding this fight with her.

I sighed, shrugging off my jacket, folding it neatly and placing it on the chair. Without warning, she went for a jab straight to the throat, and I slapped her hand out of the way. After a quick recovery, she went for a blow to the head, forcing me to lift both of my arms up up to protect my head, and charge forward, pushing her back forcefully. She stumbled backward, crashing through the partially opened bathroom door, and hit her mouth on the bathroom sink on the way down. 

Her head snapped toward me, fury lighting her eyes as blood collected on the side of her mouth, dripping down her chin. She wiped the blood with the sleeve of her nightgown, and stood up, fists clenched, rigid body, ready to send me to hell. She launched herself at me, hands wrapping around the back of my hair, pulling hard and aiming a knee high into my chest. Throwing my left forearm forward and toward the top of her thigh, I blocked the kick, slapping the knee away with my hand, and sweeping my leg toward her, knocking her to the ground with a hard thud and a sharp exhalation. I dropped down to the ground, one knee across her chest, as I held her arms down. She struggled, her legs kicking out frantically, screaming like a banshee in frustration.

“Fuck you, John Wick! Fuck you!” She screamed, and I narrowly dodged a hock of spit aimed straight at my face. 

She struggled for a good fifteen minutes before her frail frame finally gave out, and she opted for a venomous glare instead. Soon enough, the glare turned into numb acceptance. 

Cautiously, I eased off of her, half expecting her to lunge at me again. When she didn’t, I lifted her up in my arms, and she leaned against me, whether it was because she had no other choice or simply trusted me enough to, I wasn’t sure. What I was sure of was the sigh that escaped her lips, and the way the she leaned into me. I was sure that the warmth of her body felt strangely comforting to me, and that in itself made me anxious. 

Quietly, I carried her into the bathroom, setting her down on the bench Helen used to use to put in her makeup and get ready for the day, her cosmetics and brushes had long since been packed away not because I didn’t like them but because looking at them made me feel angry that I had lost her in the first place. What did remain there now was a bottle of her perfume, a gentle reminder of sleepless nights and warm encounters.

I left the bathroom, and when I returned with an ice pack, I found Natalia sitting in the same daze I had left her, staring off into the void. Carefully, I kneeled down in front of her, pressing the cold compress to her lips, watching her face for any sort of reaction and not getting one. Robotically, she moved her hand to hold the ice pack on her face. I stood next to her in silence for a moment, not sure what to do or say, until finally I cleared my throat, mumbling,

“I’ll let you get cleaned up.”

I moved to leave, when her hand suddenly reached up, grabbing my arm and gently pulling back.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from overuse, “don’t leave me here alone.”


	7. Acceptance

I’m not a man who is easily surprised. Part of my job is always being one step ahead of everyone else, but when Natalia grabbed my arm and begged me to stay, I was completely taken aback. Looking down into her eyes, for the first time, I sensed an urgency and a need for companionship—for someone who understood her, but I wasn’t sure I could or should be that person for her. Being alone with another woman in an intimate setting like this one just felt...wrong—like I was betraying Helen, but the more those thoughts raced through my mind, the more I heard that quiet voice in the darkness, awakening from a slumber whispering, “She’s gone, John. She wants you to do the right thing. Do the right thing.”

But before I had a chance to make a decision, I saw a dim realization dawn in her eyes, and she looked away from me, suddenly ashamed, mumbling,

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that of you. I’ll be fine, John.”

The anger and despair of her grief had finally dissolved for the night, leaving exhaustion in its wake for Natalia. I nodded, leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. I paused outside the door, considering going back in and apologizing to her, but when I heard the stream of shower water hitting the wall, I decided against that course of action. For the first time in a long time, I paced outside the door, listening to the shower. 

A few minutes passed, and I found myself knocking on the door.

“Natalia?” I called. No response. 

Somewhere in the span of the last two days, I had formed a strange concern for her, one that was unsettling, but yet enlivening all at the same time. I knocked again, calling her name, but again heard no response. Gently, I turned the handle to the bathroom door. Open. Worried about offending her, I covered my eyes and called out into the steam,

“It’s just me. I was worried about you when you didn’t respond. Are you okay?”

Still no response. I uncovered my eyes and saw Natalia, still fully clothed sitting in the shower, her hands around her knees hugging them to her chest. If she was crying, I couldn’t tell with the water running down her face. 

From the counter, I grabbed a wash cloth, rolled my sleeves up, and entered the shower. Cautiously, I squatted down in front of her. Her eyes met mine for a brief moment and then looked away in shame. Gently, I reached out toward her, taking her hand and squeezing it. Then, with my other hand, I began moving the washcloth in a circular motion, gently rubbing off all of the dried blood on her hands. I moved up her forearms, gingerly buffing away the last remaining physical pieces of her father as the crimson water swirled down the drain, taking those fragments with it.

The shower water fell like a gentle rain as I carefully scrubbed her neck. She shivered slightly at the touch. My hands grazed her cheek and she leaned into the touch, allowing herself to fall apart in front of me, quiet tears becoming torrential outpourings of sobs. I reached toward her, and she crawled into my lap, her legs folding up as she curled into me, shoulders shaking from the weight of thousands of tears she had yet to cry, and I knew what that pain felt like. There was nothing that ripped the soul apart more than losing someone that was your whole life and the center of your universe, whether it was a father’s unconditional love or a spouse’s undying devotion.

***

Natalia sat at the window seat in the corner of the bedroom adjacent to the master bedroom and stared out the window into the night, looking at everything, and looking at nothing at the same time. I leaned on the frame of the door, letting her process what had happened on her own, the glow of the fireplace illuminating her skin a golden yellow, the soft blanket slipping off her bare shoulder. I watched as she sank into the plush cushions of the window seat, knees raising to her chest as she curled herself into a ball. As if feeling my presence, she glanced over her shoulder and met my stare, and after a moment, her lips curled into a sad smile. She whispered,

“I guess I knew this day would come eventually. I just...didn’t expect it to come so soon.”

I glanced over at her, studying her face carefully, surprised not to see tears on her cheeks or even the faintest hint of them in her eyes. She met my eyes again and held them. Even though there wasn’t the physical evidence of tears in her eyes, I could see how distraught that she was. Natalia was the type to numb the pain and push it away rather than confront it. I understood that feeling well. I nodded, and stood, rounding the chairs before I heard her call,

“John.”

I pulled myself out of my thoughts.

“What you did--for me--. I…”

I could see her struggling to form the words. I waited in silence, turning my full attention to her, watching the fire cast a curious orange glow on her face. I think it might have been the first time that I really looked at her face. Long brown tresses of dark brown hair framed a light face, exhausted by time and current events. Thick lashes framed hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and the trademark full lips of the Kuznetsova family. She was so beautiful. 

Slender hands found their way over her tired eyes, and she sighed a long, drawn out sigh, gathering herself for a moment before finishing her thoughts,

“Thank you.”

I wanted to tell her that I knew how she felt. I knew how much pain she was in because I knew what it felt like to lose someone. By that same token, I also knew that no amount of words, empathy, or compassion could ever help fill the hole left behind when someone that you love dies. It takes time, distraction, and a lot of discipline to make it through. Instead of telling her all of those things, relating to her like most people would, I settled on a simple nod in response.

“Goodnight, Mr. Wick.” She projected such a confident voice. I smiled, pushing off of the door frame and heading off to bed.


	8. Stupid Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the heaviness of the last few chapters, I thought it might be nice to add a little light humor. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The house was quiet when I woke the next morning. I don’t remember falling asleep in the chair. I carefully unfolded my legs and set them on the ground before snatching my legs back with a yelp. My feet landed on something soft and warm as a blue pit rose up and glared at me.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He glared at me for a minute longer before his mouth curved back into a smile, his tongue hanging out as he panted. I reached out and scratched him behind the ears, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the pets. “Good dog.”

I stood carefully and stretched, trying to get the stiffness out of my muscles, and no doubt feeling the bruising from yesterday’s escapades. I glanced around the house, taking in the modern setting, feeling a little shocked that John would be into something modern. When I thought of the Baba Yaga, something much...older came to mind, or was it more traditional? I wrapped the blanket around myself, searching for a way outside. Some fresh air would do me a world of good, and judging by the whimpers that “good dog” was making, I could tell that a trip outside would do him some good as well.

Opening the door to John’s house was like being transported to another world. It was the first time in all of my life that I wasn’t opening my doors to the sights and sounds of a concrete jungle but to real life trees. My father loved me well, but kept a close eye on me, preferring not to let me travel outside of the city limits where he had contacts and people to keep me safe at all times. Out here, it was the first time I breathed in the smell of pine, the sound of silence, the untainted air free of pollutants, the scurry of animals skittering to and fro around the grounds. I shivered. The morning was a cool morning, and “good dog” was taking advantage of the time, disappearing into the trees.

“Dog!” I called out. I felt a moment of panic upon realizing that I had just let the Baba Yaga’s dog wander off into the death forest. Without thinking, I ran into the woods, bare feet trudging over rocks, splinters, and pine needles. “Dog! Dog!”

I looked like an absolute idiot running around the woods like a bomzh, calling out for Baba Yaga’s dog, but I already knew what would happen to me if I didn’t find this dog or worse, if I had let him run to his death. I picked up the pace a little more, calling out to him.

“Dog!” I all but cried. The woods were a maze of trees, each one looking like the last, but my feet kept running through the trees anyway, looking for this idiot dog. Feeling a catch creeping up in my side, I stopped, hands on my knees, doubling over to catch my breath. This was when I got the brilliant idea to actually listen. The woods were quiet, surely I would be able to hear the dog somewhere. I closed my mouth to breathe through my nose and strained my ears to hear any noise I could. At first, I didn’t hear anything until finally, I heard the slightest sound of twigs breaking and foliage being moved out of the way. 

“Dog!” I shouted again, listening. “Come here, dog!”

As if appearing by magic, the “good dog” was by my side. 

“Ay, tupaya sobaka, idiot dog.” I harrumphed. “You scared me. I thought you ran off into the jaws of the beasts.”

“Good dog” stared at me, panting with half-closed eyes, shamelessly sunbathing in the ray of sunlight peeking through the canopy of the forest. He was clearly enjoying this.

“Sit down, dog.” I commanded, and the “good dog” sat. That was when I realized that the sounds I had heard before weren’t coming from the “good dog” but from an entirely different direction. The “good dog’s” ears perked up, and growled a soft growl in the back of his throat. I suddenly remembered that I was on the run from several different assassins and coming out into the woods unarmed and without shoes was probably not the best idea I’d ever had in my life. Abruptly, “good dog” bolted from his sitting position toward the oncoming sound, and I ran after my only line of defense, shouting,

“Come back here, tupaya sobaka! Sit! SIT! Damn it, dog!”

I ran through the maze of trees, chasing after the grayish blue tail, but he already had at least thirty seconds of a head start ahead of me. That was when a great, black figure stepped directly in front of me, without warning, causing me to hit said figure running at full force, and ricochet backward before being caught around the wrists and pulled into said dark figure’s chest. The wind had been knocked out of me, but I recognized the smell. Black orchid, soft black shirt, black jacket, and a belt buckle sticking into my stomach. Baba yaga. I peeked up at him hesitantly through my lashes and was met with an expression that was mixed with confusion, amusement, and annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing?” he spat. Definitely annoyance. I took a step back, hoping that step back would shield me from the onslaught of John Wick’s anger.

“The ‘good dog’ ran into the woods, and I--I wanted to make sure he was safe because I didn’t want him to die--well, clearly I didn’t want him to die because he’s the ‘good dog’ and he--”

“You’re rambling.”

“Right. ‘Good dog’ ran into the woods. I pursued because I thought he might get eaten by a bear. I wanted to save ‘good dog’ so you didn’t kill me.”

John’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile.

“It’s not funny.” I pouted.

“Just out of curiosity...how were you going to save my dog if he did encounter a bear?”

I scoffed for a second and folded my arms.

“I’m Russian, John.” I stated. “We wrestle bears all of the time. It’s in our blood.”

John cracked a smile at that, and I think it was the first time I’ve ever seen him smile, and honestly, I think I could get used to seeing a smile like that. I shouldered past him, and stomped my way right into a nice, big rock hidden by tons of leaves and foliage. 

“Son of a…”

At that, I felt a pair of arms swoop me off of the ground with a brisk,

“Dog, come.”

“Put me down, John!” I wriggled in his grasp. He tightened his grip on me, ignoring me and carried me to up the steps and into the living room where he plopped me on the chair. I sat up, starting to protest, but was immediately silenced when I found myself face to face with Baba Yaga.

“Let’s make one thing clear.” John purred. “Don’t ever run off like that again for any reason.”

“Be reasonable, John, I--”

“Ever.”

My eyes widened, and I could see that he was dead serious. He leaned in, lips right next to my ear, and for the third time today, I shivered at the feeling of his breath on my ear.

“Or don’t come back.” he whispered, lingering for just a second longer, looking at my face out of the corner of his eye, before disappearing from sight.


	9. Intrusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From John’s Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I’m glad you are still here :)

I could have gone easier on Natalia, but I wanted to send her a message. The last thing that I needed right now was to have to go chasing after a girl that wasn’t even my responsibility to begin with. And yet again, here I was dealing with a problem of my own making. 

I sighed a heavy sigh, resigning myself to my new responsibilities, and dressed in my normal attire--black shirt, black bulletproof jacket, black trousers, black shoes. I had just started the process of reloading my guns when I heard the loud pop of the pistol that I had given Natalia from downstairs. Dog’s ears perked up as he lunged toward the bedroom door. Quickly, I positioned myself to the left of the door, considering the layout of the house, and the best route to get downstairs. A quick thought slithered into my brain, unwanted, and unwarranted, What if Natalia is dead? The disgusting feeling of dread creeped through my body, pulse quickening at the thought of her death. 

Quietly, I opened the door, listening for any signs of movement or life outside of the door. Dog went out first, and there was no commotion that followed. I rounded the corner, my weapon at the ready, searching left and right down the narrow hallway. Another shot rang out from downstairs, and I quickly moved toward the noise, carefully making my way down the stairs. I pressed myself up against the wall of the living room, and there I heard quick, shaky breathing. I waited patiently until I heard the telltale sound of a gun being reloaded. I took that opportunity to swing around the corner, weapon at the ready, watching the figure quickly drop the weapon, and just as quickly fire a second weapon at the hip that would have hit me in the head, but rather grazed my cheek because I dodged right just in the nick of time.

I readied my weapon once again only to come face to face with Natalia holding her own weapon at the ready.

“Oh my god! John! I could’ve killed you!” she breathed, her voice an octave higher from panic. I surveyed the situation--two men, Yakuza, down, shot through the head lying in my living room. The living room window--shattered, their point of entry. I put a finger to my lips and moved toward the living room window, peeking out. No car. No sign of tires or tracks other than the car that I had taken to get Natalia and I here. They had been waiting in the woods the entire time. How I missed them, I wasn’t sure, but I was certain that if I hadn’t run into Natalia in the woods, it was likely she would have been dead. The real question now was whether there anymore men waiting in the woods. 

Dog sniffed the bodies lying on the ground, growling, and turning to go lie in his bed near the fireplace. I took a look at Natalia, finding her already bloodied nightgown torn up to the right thigh, but it wasn’t her thighs that were captivating, though they were pleasant to look at. It was the familiar leather strap around her thighs that I hadn’t noticed before that was riddled with throwing knives and a sleek combat knife with a mother of pearl handle. She followed my eyes down and murmured,

“Oh.”

Natalia removed the combat knife from the strap and situated the knife over her left thigh, dragging the knife down to the ground so that she would have better mobility should she need it. All this time I was under the impression that Natalia was a delicate rose that hadn’t had training or combat experience. I didn’t believe her when she told me that she knew how to use a gun. Clearly, I was mistaken judging by her weapons and the clear headshots from the victims lying before me. Natalia was an experienced fighter and something about that intrigued me. I raised my eyebrows in question,

“Something you need to learn, John, is just because I didn’t participate in my father’s exploits doesn’t mean that I wasn’t aware of them. I knew the dangers, and I learned how to handle those dangers.”

She was smart, unlike many who chose to turn a blind eye, hoping not to be affected by the dangers of unwholesome professions. She chose to prepare herself, knowing the risks and knowing the consequences. She wasn’t blinded by the riches and benefits of twisting the arms of the elites. She took what she had, and she was grateful for it. I respected that.

“Why didn’t you want to get into the family business?” I knew it was a question that so many had wondered, but few had ever really had the gall to ask, especially with the threats that her father had made very clear. It wasn’t worth the risks. Natalia considered the question for a moment and swallowed hard. She flicked the safety onto the pistol and tossed it on the armchair.

“I suppose it’s because, morally, I just couldn’t see myself doing those things. Killing people, I mean. Taking a life--well, it’s just so final, isn’t it? We all have faults. Problems. Issues that we wish we didn’t have. I could have been the one to take those issues away for people, but at what cost? Nothing is free.” she touched the back of the armchair contemplatively, before her hands dropped by her side. “Now I guess it doesn’t even matter. I’ve killed more men in three last few days with you than I have in my entire life.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It kind of comes with the territory...not to mention your family is part of a crime syndicate responsible for hundreds of deaths.”

Natalia smiled sadly. “Yes, thank you for reminding me, John. My point is these people all have their own lives, families, situations that they are dealing with, and I’ve never felt that I needed to be the one to make the decision on whether to make their lives heaven or hell. The power. It was enticing. Of course it was. To be able to do anything you want. Have anything you want. Be anything you want. But I guess it was the price that I wasn’t willing to pay.”

I nodded in understanding.

“What about you?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Why is it that you are willing to pay the price?”

“I don’t look at people as people anymore but more like...machines. I have a job to do, and I do it. I pay the price because I’m well equipped to pay. I’m good at what I do, and I’m called to do it.” It wasn’t a hard concept for me to grasp, but to a someone who doesn’t understand the concept of taking a life or has never done it, it seems incomprehensible.

“I see.” was her simple response.

“We need to move.” I told her before another moment of silence could pass between us. “They’re in the woods.”

She nodded, gathering up her weapons.

“John,” her voice sent tingles down my spine, a feeling I hadn’t been familiar with in a while. I turned toward her in response. “I need clothes.”

I hadn’t touched Helen’s clothes in a while, and I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to. I thought about stopping off somewhere to let her buy something, but decided it would be easier, and better to just give her some of Helen’s clothes. I took her to the basement, where I had Helen’s things in boxes. Rubbing my eyebrows and pacing a little, I told her,

“There. Take what you need.”

I couldn’t stand seeing Helen’s things again. I didn’t need those feelings to come back again. Natalia looked at me quizzically, then over to the box. Seeing it marked “Helen” it seemed as though she understood and nodded. I made my way up the stairs, taking them two at a time to escape the inevitable.


	10. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep. So, it’s been a while, but here we go!

“Well, it’s not the Four Seasons, but it’s...” Natalia waved her hand around searching for the right words. She walked around the rustic cabin, touching the rough fabric curtains, eyes scanning the room. I nodded, raising my eyebrows at the same time. I knew this wasn’t something she would be used to—a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere that was little more than a studio. 

She sat down on the worn out couch, the fire from the fireplace illuminating the room. I leaned against the counter, studying her for a second, trying to get a read on her—anything was better than guessing what she was thinking or feeling.

“I’m fine.” She said aloud. For a second, I was shocked at her telepathic abilities. She looked over at me and smiled. “Really, John. You don’t hide your concern well. But thank you.”

“You should get some rest. It’s been a long day.” I told her, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. From behind, I pulled a quilt off of the back of the couch, draping it over her. She smiled, snuggling into the blanket, lying on the tattered cushions.

“Why don’t you take the bed?” I offered. She sighed, making herself more comfortable into the couch. 

“No thanks.” She murmured. “I’m comfortable.”

And with that, she was fast asleep. I checked all of the doors and windows, peeking out for a moment to check. Then, I set up the security perimeter and headed to bed.

When I woke later in the evening, I felt like I had been asleep for days though it was only a few hours. I felt warm, comfortable—almost content. In my ear, I heard a soft breathing, a warm, firm body was pressed up against me, the gentle pressure of an arm draped across my body. 

Carefully, I glanced over, and there was Natalia, curled up next to me and sound asleep, her lips slightly parted, soft breathing from a gentle sleep escaping them. How I hadn’t felt her come into the bed was unknown to me, but what I did know was that she was mesmerizing to look at. Instinctively, I reached out, touching her face, gently moving strands of hair away from her face. My fingers brushed across a bruise on her cheek and neck, her soft skin beginning to turn a deep purple. It felt almost normal having her next to me. I put my arm around her, pulling her a little closer to me as she sighed in her sleep. Carefully, I pulled the blankets up around her shoulders, and I closed my eyes, drifting back into a peaceful sleep.

The smell of coffee was what woke me from my sleep. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, a silver blue light filling the room and a low roll of thunder rattling the house. In the little kitchen, Natalia leaned against the counter, a deep black robe pulled tight against her body, her long hair pulled over her shoulder, arms crossed over her body as she lifted a tin coffee mug to her lips, taking a sip. 

Lightly I cleared my throat. Natalia looked over her shoulder at the sound, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“Good morning.” My voice was hoarse. I pushed the blankets off of myself, heading into the kitchenette for coffee. 

“Morning.” Natalia responded. A slight tension passed between us, and I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. The bruise on her cheek had caused her eye to puff up significantly. Heading to the freezer, I pulled out a bag of peas and grabbed a kitchen towel, wrapping the peas up. Natalia looked at me, curiously, then set her coffee mug down. She hopped up onto the counter.

“I figured if you’re playing doctor I might as well sit like a good patient.” Natalia quipped. I smirked, gently placing the peas on her eye and cheek. She winced for a moment, and then leaned into the coolness. Without thinking, I brushed the hair back from her face that had fallen as she leaned in. Natalia’s hand fell over my hand as she pressed the ice pack closer to her face, closing her eyes. A slight moment of panic flooded through me, and my body stiffened. She seemed to notice the change, and she opened her eyes, her hand coming to rest on her thigh again.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. I was completely at a loss for words. Why? Why was I acting this way? She made me absolutely crazy, but she had this magnetic pull to her. Something I couldn’t get away from—something I didn’t want to get away from. I had spent so many days mourning Helen and trying to move on that I hadn’t realized that Natalia had somehow found her way into my life. She took that grief and made it more manageable...and I wanted that in my life. I liked that change—that distraction.

Natalia sighed, swatting my hand out of the way and pushing herself off of the counter. The rain outside was coming down in torrents, the thunder intensifying, the tremors of sound breaking the thick silence between the two of us. 

She yanked the quilt off of the couch, wrapping it around herself as she paused in front of the window, sinking down onto the sill, pulling the curtain back and gazing out into the storm, a flash of white light illuminating her face. 

I set the peas down, leaning against the counter, trying to figure out how to proceed. The only way we could work together would be if we worked in tandem, and fighting just wasn’t going to work. It was time to put this ridiculous tension to rest.

I marched over to her, a hundred lines in my head I wanted to say, and a hundred different ways I expected her to react. 

“Natalia,” I began, voice firm. She looked over her shoulder at me, a familiar sadness tainting her eyes, and I couldn’t stand it. Everything I wanted to say, all my resolve, it vanished the second I looked at her. I sat down on the sill next to her, and she waited patiently for a response. “It’s...been a long time since I’ve spent time with a woman. I don’t know exactly how to react.”

Her brows furrowed together, and she said, “I’m just a person, John.”

“No.” My voice was firm, sudden, and she seemed taken aback. “No, you’re not just a person.”

“If I said something wrong, it wasn’t my intention. I—“

“That’s just it!” I felt a dam inside me explode and a tidal wave of emotions surged forward. “Everything about you is wrong!”

I felt frantic, like I had no control, and I hated that. I jerked up to a standing position and Natalia, startled, stood too.

“You come crashing into my life with these expectations that I’m supposed to protect you when the whole world is trying to kill me, and I’m just supposed to go along with it. You—this— girl I barely know, and suddenly I’m supposed to give my life for you! I don’t even know you.” I raked my fingers through my hair, stalking toward her as she stumbled backward against the wall, panic evident in her eyes. I trapped her, one hand against the wall, no escape. I was close enough that I could feel her panicked breath.

“I didn’t expect this either.” She found her voice, leaning toward me, indignant eyes, narrowed. “And if I’m such a problem for you, why didn’t you just let me die?”

Shock must have crossed my face at that statement because a smirk played on her lips.

“You has plenty of opportunities to, John—at the compound, in the woods, in your own house—even here in this cabin.” She spat at me. “But that didn’t happen because you want me to live.”

My mind went completely blank for a second at that statement. She was right. I did want her to live, and not just because she was innocent. It was selfishness on my part. My hand dropped from the wall, and I took a step back, trying to reassess.

“Don’t blame me for your grief or your own decisions. Talk to me, walk away, do what you need to do to be okay, but don’t blame me.” Her voice was quiet, a steady resolve lacing itself through her syllables. 

Every word she said resonated with me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I shut the reasonable part of my mind off, acting on instinct. I strode forward, taking her face in my hands. She reached up in shock, putting her hands around my wrists defensively. She paused, her eyes meeting mine for just a moment, a second of affirmation passing through us. And with that, I leaned in, lips crashing down on hers.


	11. idi trakhni sebya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW—things between John And Natalia are heating up.

Kissing John Wick was like holding fire in your bare hands—heat, scorching passion, a relentless barrage of breath, frantic lips, and fingers tangled in dark locks of hair, followed. My back slammed against the wall, a sharp exhale of breath and a grunt escaping my mouth as I yanked him toward me by his belt. John’s hands left my face, traveling down my body toward the sash that held my robe together. 

At that, I seized his hand, and breathed in his ear,

“Slow down, John.”

I could feel him smile against my neck, and I wished that I could have seen that smile for myself. The ever brooding John Wick smiling must truly be a sight to behold.

John pulled away a little, his hands, touching my face. I smiled, closing my eyes and touching his hand, leaning into his palm and kissing it. Gently, he pulled me forward and kissed my forehead.

“We need to figure out our next move.” John whispered, pulling me, unwillingly, back to reality.

“Can’t we just stay here?” I shrugged, picking my coffee mug back up, pouting into the strong drink. It was so much easier to just stay in the world with John and forget about what was going on outside. 

“We can’t run forever.” John somberly looked over his shoulder at me as he grabbed a towel from the cabinet closest to the bathroom door, slinging it over his shoulder. I knew what he said was probably true, but I was more than willing to run forever if it meant running with him. “Call Avgust. We need to know what your brother is up to.” 

And with that, John shut the door to the bathroom. I took John’s phone from his jacket and dialed Avy’s number. After two rings, the phone went silent, and I knew he was listening.

“Eto ya.” I all but whispered into the phone. It’s me. A brief sigh of relief hissed through the phone, as he said,

“Slava bogu.” Thank god.

“Are you alright?” My heart was beating nearly out of my chest at the thought of Avy out there alone, trying to stay away from my psychotic brother.

“Da uzh. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one with a bounty on my head.” A sickly feeling of dread creeped through my veins and into my stomach, settling deep into my core.

“Spasibo za napominaniye.” Thanks for reminding me. The response came out more hateful than I had intended for it to. I could hear a dark chuckle on the other line. Avy didn’t bother to apologize. He wasn’t really the type to do that anyway.

“I know where he is.” Avy quietly told me. 

“Of course you do. He wants to be found.” I felt a cold shiver run up my spine as the sound of the shower coming on momentarily startled me.

“No.” Avy’s voice was abrupt. “He wants to find you. He’s trying to pull you out of the shadows.”

We can’t run forever.

“Then,” I took a deep breath, a single tear falling down my cheek that I batted away like the nuisance that it was, “I would hate to disappoint him.”

“Natalia, don’t do something reckless.” Avy chastised me.

“Who me? Do something reckless?” I forced a laugh. “Ya by nikogda.”

I would never.

“I’ll send the coordinates.” I could hear Avy smiling through the phone.

“Avy?” My voice sounded rushed. “You’ll be there...won’t you?”

I felt like a child asking for a security blanket, like I needed him there or I wouldn’t be safe. 

“Ty znayesh’ ya budu.” It was such a soft affirmation, but all I needed to hear. You know I will be. 

And with that he was off the phone. I felt this emptiness wash over me like nothing I had felt before, and a sickly feeling. I pushed the phone back in his pocket. I felt this incredible need to be near someone and this hunger for affection. Fuck this whole taking it slow business. If I was going to die, I was going to die without any regrets and doing what I wanted to do before all this PC-good-girl-bullshit stopped me from doing what I would’ve done before.

I ripped my robe off, flinging it onto the floor, tearing at my undergarments to get them off. I burst in through the bathroom, startling John. He looked over his shoulder, the massive tattoo catching my eye for a moment. I wasted no time, throwing open the shower door and tangling myself in his arms, my hands tangling in his hair. A sense of primal pride surged through me as I ran my hands over his body. 

John leaned down near my ear, biting my lobe, careful hands tracing up my hips, around the front of my body, and over my breasts. Despite the scalding hot water, I shivered at his touch. I could see that he appreciated the effect he had on me.

“What happened to taking it slow?” He whispered. Heat pooled itself deep into my stomach, and I closed my eyes, willing myself to pull it together. John backed me against the wall, dark hair falling over his face. He was an intimidating man, all things considered. He had this darkness he carried with him, and here I was standing in the shower, vulnerable to the Baba Yaga himself. But I wanted to bask in his darkness, to pull him down into the depths with me through this hellfire. I wanted to be in it with him together. 

I reached out hesitantly and touched his chest, looking straight into those dark eyes. The feeling for companionship left me feeling strange, and John seemed to regret his last statement as the thick silence fell between us. I needed that silence to be filled with more. The sound of the shower running drowned out the sound of my hectic breathing, my heart felt like it wanted to beat out of my chest.

“I—I know where he is.” My voice was quiet. John nodded.

“After this, we will get things in order, and figure out what to do.” He told me.

I nodded, leaning forward and kissing him again, my hands traveling over his broad shoulders. John’s lips grew fervent over mine, his body tense, hungry, hands clutching me, pulling me close to him. He groaned, and I nipped his lip gently.

“I can’t keep doing this.” John growled, between fervent kisses. Frustration forced me to push hard at John and he stumbled back toward the wall. 

“Doing what?” John’s hot and cold attitude was not what I needed at this time. I sauntered toward him, my hands ran down his toned frame, and I pressed my body against him, my tongue tracing his lips softly. “This?”

With that, I grabbed his cock. John sucked in a hard breath as my hands worked up and down the slick shaft. He went completely still as I hitched my leg over his thigh and continued to work. All those years in gymnastics had finally paid off. 

John’s hands dug into my body, and I hissed in a bit of pain and appreciation. I nuzzled my face into his neck, licking the droplets of water that fell down them and suckling at them gently, my tongue running up the length of his neck.

“You’re right.” I conceded, gently pulling away from him. “It’s too distracting. It’s probably best if I just—“

I gave him one more hard jerk, and then pulled my hand away,

“Stopped.”

John scoffed at that, letting out a breath he had been holding for quite a while, and I knew he hadn’t been expecting that reaction. With that, I stepped out of the shower, taking his towel.

“It was fun.” I smiled, waving over my shoulder. If there was anything I couldn’t stand, it was men who couldn’t make up their mind—that fair weather friendship wasn’t exactly for me, and I wasn’t into polyamorous relationships. As much as it bothered me, I knew the best thing I could do was give him his space and let him deal with his shit. 

“Until next time,” I saluted to an obviously shocked John Wick, “idi trakhni sebya.”


	12. Running Toward Death

There were three simple rules that I followed when it came to women:

1\. If you are a king, then she is your queen, and your job is to protect her both physically and emotionally at all costs.  
2\. It did no good to argue with women because even when they are wrong, they are right.  
3\. Never ever, under any circumstances, piss a woman off. 

As I stood in the shower watching Natalia’s beautiful body walk out the door, her lips curled into a wry smile as she dropped a fond “go fuck yourself” on her way out the door. 

“What the hell are you doing, John?” I muttered to myself, finishing up my shower. Getting close to Natalia wasn’t going to do any good for anyone. In fact, it would probably get both of us killed. Feeling a need to protect someone, to make sure she’s okay—that’s the shit you don’t want to get into in my line of work, and I had jumped feet first into a steaming pile of romantic shit at that. How was I supposed to tell her that?

Peeking outside the door, I reached around the corner toward the linen closet, struggling to grab another towel. Natalia, who was still in my stolen towel looked over her shoulder, her lips twitching into a smile at my plight. Finally, my fingertips grazed a towel, and I pulled it into the bathroom, wrapping it around my waist. 

Getting dressed in my normal black suit was easy enough. Natalia had grabbed some of Helen’s black leggings, and a black turtleneck sweater. She made direct eye contact with me, then turned around, bending over deliberately to slide on some black boots. My gaze traveled over the length of her body, shamelessly studying her curves and the smooth lines of her body. 

“You’re staring.” I could her the twinge of annoyance intermixed with amusement in her voice as she pulled on her leg harness. She stood up straight, quickly braided her hair into a single braid and then began taping her hands. It was almost like watching a ritual take place.

“Going somewhere?” A sharp glance in my immediate direction reiterated her closing sentiments to me as she left the bathroom, but for the time being, she smiled sweetly and said through her teeth,

“Ne tvoye deli, mudak.”

None of your business...

I strode across the room in two large steps, standing up a little straighter, leaning into her face to get my point across. It irked me that this little petite woman thought she could get away with these insults, and it was clear that my reaction shocked her because she leaned away from me.

“I’ve told you before...I don’t do insults.” I bristled

“Well, I didn’t realize that calling you an asshole would bring out the Baba Yaga.” Natalia was mocking me, and even though I knew part of it was coming from a place of mortification at being turned down, I felt like the best thing I could do would be to let her say her piece and take it at this point. Besides, being mocked also came with the hire to kill territory.

Natalia looked me square in the eye, raising her leg up on the arm of the couch, grabbing her knife holster, and carefully strapping it on. She pulled out each of her knives, inspecting them carefully, then inspected the gun I had given her. She checked the bullet count, then cocked the pistol, looking down the sight. She then took one of the machetes from the slain Yakuza, and she slung it over her shoulder and across her body. 

Satisfied with her armaments, she shouldered past me, making her way toward the door. I reached out quickly, snatching her arm, feeling a sudden irritation at her stubbornness.

“I don’t think you quite realize the gravity of the situation you’re in.” I growled in her ear. “No bulletproof vest, no real plan—you just want to go in guns a blazing. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’ve had military grade weapons and combat training with the finest military officers in the country. I don’t need John fucking Wick there to protect me. In fact, you’re the last person I want to see there—the last person I want there beside me—“ Natalia was speaking through gritted teeth, and there she was again: the girl who didn’t need me, who was independent beyond the need for bodyguards. 

“So,” she leaned forward right into my face, “let...me...go...”

She with that, she took a hard swipe at my face, connecting soundly with my jaw. I stumbled backward, and she made a dash for the door. Surging forward, I caught Natalia by the waist, taking her down with me. At that, Natalia reached up with both hands, balling her fists together, and coming down hard on my throat and flipping me over, taking the top. We both sat for a moment, breathing hard, piercing eyes connecting with mine.

“I can’t.” I felt a strange feeling swelling in my chest, and I hated it.

“Can’t what?” Natalia spat.

“I can’t let you go.” It was harder than I thought it would be to get those words out because it was true in the literal and figurative sense for me. All of the fight and resolve in Natalia’s eyes was gone in an instant. 

“You don’t have a choice.” The words were out and barely there. It was her fight, and I was more than aware of that. She could walk away if she wanted to, but what if I lost her? If she walked out the door, and I never saw her again? Natalia sighed, moving to get off of me. I grabbed her deftly by the back of the neck, bringing her forward, crushing her lips against mine. At first, she shoved me in shock, but I didn’t want to let up. Her hands trembled, landing softly on my face. She broke the kiss quickly, putting her head to mine.

“I might not have a choice, but I’ll be damned if you’re walking into your death without me.” My voice was little more than a growl. 

“Then saddle up, Mr. Wick.” Natalia planted a hard kiss on my cheek. “Because the ride of the Valkyrie is about to begin.”

“Somehow, you sound way too excited about your own suicide.” I set my mouth into a hard line to show my disapproval.

“Oh, I am.” She laughed, patting my cheek. “Avy will be there.”


	13. Return to Bowery Court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! You guys rock!

Ch 13  
Finding Avy’s safe house in the city would have been like finding a needle in a haystack if it wasn’t for the directions Avy gave us. It had no address because he made sure that it was wiped from the grid. Getting there required going into the bowels of the city and right back into the Bowery King’s domain.

The Bowery Ballroom was considered the portal and main entrance into the Bowery King’s Court, the underground realm that was essentially his throne room. The single lit green light outside of the deserted ballroom shone on the front of the rough exterior. Posters lined the windows and the front entrance of the ballroom, and a single shadow passed the window. The two single metallic shutters sat closed on either side of the windows to the exterior. 

Natalia looked at me, taking in a deep breath, and nodded. Out of my jacket, I pulled a solid black card, and slid it under the shutter. After a moment, the shutter slid open just enough for the two of us to crawl under. The echo of footsteps approaching us in the large space set Natalia on edge. I felt her inch a bit closer to me. 

“John Wick.” I heard him before I saw him—the Bowery King. “My, my it has been a minute since I’ve seen you.”

“It has.” I agreed. I felt one of his men patting us down for weapons and removing them from us.

“I see you’ve brought a friend.” He said, my eyes flicked around looking for him. His laughter echoed throughout the hall. “The lovely Natalia Kuznetsova.”

I reached back toward Natalia, moving her behind me slightly, and another round of laughter followed that move.

“To what do I owe the absolute pleasure, Mr. Wick, Ms. Kuznetsova?” The Bowery King called out.

“Avgust. We need to get to him.” My voice held steady, despite feeling like I wanted to lash out at anyone who came my way.

“Ah yes. You’ve outdone yourself this time, John.” The Bowery King seemed to be coming closer. “First, you have a bounty out on your head. Then, you decide to help out another with a bounty on her head, and now you’re protecting her? Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m alright with you getting murdered and all, but I have to say, I didn’t expect the infamous John Wick to walk into hell with another woman on his arm.”

“O, otvali.” Natalia grumbled. My lips twitched at that and the Bowery King roared with laughter at that.

“Oh, I like her.” He cackled. “You want to get to Avgust, be my guest.”

At that, another shadow appeared with a flashlight, motioning us to follow him.

“Oh, and John? If you don’t die, make sure you come back with that some of that bloodlust. I believe a visit is owed to the Continental.”

A visit was owed and long overdue. I could feel Natalia looking at me, so I nodded, and we followed the shadow with the flashlight. We headed across the massive ballroom toward the stage. The shadow pulled back a board from the front of a stage and disappeared into the abyss below. 

Natalia and I followed closely, twisting and turning through a maze of corridors, done constructed in association with the ballroom, and others, man made until we ventured upon a small, nondescript black door. The shadow with the flashlight produced another black card, sliding it beneath the door. After a moment the door opened and a mag light was shone in our faces.

“Vpusti ikh.” A familiar gravely voice ordered. The man stepped to the side, following orders, and let us in. A thick haze swirled in the center of the room where a single round table with three metal folding chairs sat, an ash tray in the center of the table collecting cigarettes beneath a dim, low light, one still lit, producing a curling smoke, and our weapons waiting for us near the ash tray. Along the walls, bunk type beds sat, all neatly made, remnants of meticulous military training.

Natalia entered first, heading straight for Avgust and throwing her arms around him, much to his visible discomfort, though I suspect he secretly liked it.

“Rad vas videt’.” Avgust grumbled.

“Nice to see you too.” Natalia smiled. Avgust looked past Natalia, approaching me and holding out his hand to shake mine.

“Blagodaryu vas. You upheld your end of the bargain, though I had little doubt you wouldn’t.” Avgust shrugged. I nodded simply.

“I assume you’ve been strategizing?” I asked.

“Pravil’no. Nikolai hasn’t left the compound since the murder. He’s increased the security tenfold, but I have a few of my men on the inside. We’ve been casing the compound for a while, deciding the best time to strike. This will require stealth and precision. Mr. Wick?” Avgust turned toward me. “I know you prefer more of a—what’s the word? Plamennyy? Approach? That can’t happen.”

“I assumed fiery wasn’t the correct way to go when you said stealth was the name of the game.” I grumbled.

“Well, pravda, but you’re not exactly known for being stealthy.” He smirked at me, and I had a sudden desire to punch Avgust in the face. I settled on raising my eyebrows and turning to look at Natalia.

“When do we move on the compound?” Natalia inquired.

“Three days. We are still making the final preparations from within for infiltration. In the meantime, you will train long and hard for this. Mr. Wick will assist you as well as myself.” Avgust nodded toward me. I didn’t exactly like being told what I would and wouldn’t do, but when it came to Natalia’s safety, I wanted to make sure she was taken care of.

“Khoroshiy. In the meantime, where can we stay?” Natalia asked.

“I’m sure the Bowery King has room to spare.” Avgust grumbled. At that, the door swung open, and a flashlight was pointed in our direction, a shadow motioning us to follow.

Back through the tunnels we went until we came upon a room. Solid stone walls, wet with condensation surrounded a tiny full mattress with a dirty blanket. In the corner of the room, a small coal burning heater warmed the room. The shadow ushered us inside and closed the door behind us. I shrugged my jacket off and loosened my tie, keeping Natalia in my periphery vision, trying to gauge her reaction to our new accommodations. 

Natalia stood for a moment, then pulled of her sweater, exposing a black, low cut camisole. She pulled off her boots, and laid on her stomach on the bed, face near the fire.

“I’m impressed.” I smiled. 

“You expected sulking and displeasure?” She quirked an eyebrow at me.

“Frankly, I expected something.” I told her, undoing my cuffs on my shirt. She sat up, scooting toward me on the bed.

“I’m safe. I’m alive. I’m in a place away from Nikolai with the Baba Yaga, who wants to walk into hell with me and keep me safe. I have nothing to be unhappy about except the fact that John Wick has never touched me like he wants to and like I want him to.” She said, her hands traveling up my legs to my hips, her voice breathy and full of desire Her hands stopped on my belt, and she looked at me for consent.

“If that’s the only thing making you unhappy, far be it from me to deny you the only thing you want.” I smiled.

“It’s not the only thing I want.” She smiled, her fingers working on my belt. 

“Please. Tell me more.” I growled as her fingers traveled over my pants to my for. 

“How about I show you instead?” She deviously smiled at me.

I was in for a hell of a ride.


	14. Training with the Baba Yaga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!NSFW!!!!

Ch. 14

Standing in a large unfamiliar dark room illuminated by trash can fires was intimidating enough without waiting for John Wick to attack from the shadows. My heart was racing a million miles an hour, listening for even the slightest movement, and eyes flickering to every moving shadow.

Without warning, a felt a swift kick to the back of my knees, knocking me to the ground, as I scrambled to whirl around, hitting my head on the barrel of a gun pointed right between my eyes. 

“You’re dead.” John remarked cooly, holding the gun at my head a second longer before holstering it. “You need to wake up, Natalia. Get your head in the game.”

“I’m trying to. It’s not like I’m going against the deadliest assassin in the world or anything.” I rolled my eyes, dusting my knees off.

“What happened to being trained by military men and world class weapons training?” He gained me, smirking at me.

“Don’t patronize me.” I warned.

“Suit yourself, but if you’re going to talk a big game, back it up.” John shrugged. 

“O, otvali, John. You can be a real ass sometimes.” 

“I know.” He smiled at me sweetly, disappearing into the shadows, ready to spar again. This time, rather than waiting for him in the center of the room, I quickly covered the trash cans, extinguishing the light and backed up toward a column. If we were going to fight, it was going to be a fair fight. I slowed my breathing down and listened. Behind me, I heard the faint sound of footsteps, and I struck from behind the column, disarming him, and flipping him over my shoulder, slamming him to the ground. I sat on top of him, pulling my pistol and pressing it to his forehead.

“Bam. The Baba Yaga is no more.” I grinned into the darkness. “Who’s walking the walk now?”

“Fair enough.” He grunted. I used the tip of the gun, tracing my way down his nose and his mouth toward his shirt, but using a gun simply wasn’t going to do for me. I put it to the side, sitting back on his lap, running my fingers up his chest until I felt his tie. Gently, I pulled him up, and kissed him gently. He pressed me against his body with a firm kiss, his fingertips gently tracing up my back to my face. Suddenly, I felt a gun to my temple.

“Bam. Natalia Kuznetsova is no more.” John whispered against my mouth. I scoffed at that, and then bit his ear, listening to him inhale sharply, a soft moan escaping his lips.

“Well, if I die, I’ll die a somewhat happy girl.” I leaned back.

“Somewhat?” 

“The only way that I could ever be truly happy,” I began, leaning toward John’s ear and running my tongue along it, “would be if I fucked John Wick.”

“Casual fucking isn’t my style.” His voice was matter of fact.

“Mmm then what is?” At this point, every part of my body wanted John Wick, although that bit of rejection stung a little...but what girl doesn’t love a challenge?

“Something a little more...passionate.” He pulled me toward him, pressing his lips to mine. 

“I didn’t figure you for the love making type.” My fingers slowly began unbuckling his belt, gently removing it from his waist. Then, they went to work on his shirt. I felt his hands wandering my body, breath increasing as he moved his hands to the bottom of my sweater, tugging and lifting it above my head.

“Then I guess you don’t know me the way you thought you did.” He bit my bottom lip, and I stood up, straddling him and pulling my boots and tights off one leg at a time. 

I heard a faint rustling and the dim glow of a trash can bathed John’s beautiful body in a golden incandescence. I had to say that John was intimidating standing in the shadows, half of his body covered in darkness, dark locks a curtain over his face. So fucking intimidating...but my god, the arousal that I felt just looking at him, fantasizing about him being mine all this time and there he was.

I felt an odd nervousness that I couldn’t explain, and I turned away from John to try to hide that uneasiness, a certain vulnerability that only comes with baring it all to someone for the first time. John was predatory, his step a gentle swagger as he ran his hands over my body from behind, pressing himself to me, goosebumps rising as he hooked his fingers on my bra straps, slowly easing them down, fingers unclasping my bra in a single motion. It fell uselessly you the ground, forgotten for the time being. 

I turned to face him, my fingers instantly unbuttoning his pants, and he fell to his knees, hands running down my hips, taking my panties down with him. Gently, I pushed him back, laying him on the ground as I straddled him.

“You can’t stop me now, John Wick.” I positioned myself over the head of his dick, easing it in a bit to tease him and then pulling right back out. “No repeats of the shower.”

John moaned softly, his fingers digging into my hips, as he breathed,

“No. There was no stopping this from the beginning. You’re mine now.”

And with that, he thrust up hard, catching me off guard, but his cock completely filled me, and I felt a gasp escape my mouth at that, and then a moan following. I rocked against him, feeling the deliciousness heat of him as he slid in and out of me effortlessly. His hands traveled up to my breasts, fingers gently kneading my nipples as he leaned forward, sucking on them. I felt my body instantly become hotter and wetter as I positioned my knees in the floor and bounced on his cock, John’s head falling backward as his groans became louder and more frequent.

“Am I yours? Or are you mine?” I hissed, fucking him harder, grinding against him. At that, a devilish smile spread across his face as he flipped me over and onto my knees and pounded into be relentlessly.

“You. Tell. Me.” John said through gritted teeth, and at that, he thrust hard, and I felt myself go over the edge, delicious warmth rippling through me as I shouted out, bucking hard against him. This was enough to send John over the edge as he pulled my hair back, thrusting into me a few more times before pulling out of me and collapsing onto the ground, taking me with him.

Desperate breaths were the only sound breaking the silence over the crackling of the trash can fire as I lay in John’s arms. For a moment, I almost forgot about my brother and the world around me, but a hollow pit in my stomach reminded me of where I was and why I was there.

“John.” My voice was quiet, barely audible. “Don’t let me die tomorrow.”

“I would kill every person on this earth, in heaven, and in hell before they even had the chance to touch you.” He sounded so sure about it that I almost believed him. Almost.

Silently, I traced my fingers over John’s chest, considering his words before I propped myself up on my elbow, staring straight into his eyes.

“When I said before that I would rather have anyone but you by my side...that was a lie. You’re the only person I would want by my side when I walked into hell.” 

John’s lips curved into a gentle smile, and I knew that there was no going back with him. We either made it out together or neither or us made it at all, there was no in between.

“What about Avgust?” He teased. I pretended to consider his question and shrugged,

“Added bonus, I guess.”

John pulled me down for another kiss and said,

“You’d better get yourself dressed and get to sleep before we both end up using what little energy we have left on each other.”

“I could think of worse ways to use it.”

“I don’t doubt that...and as much as I would enjoy that, I would like even more to have my wits about me for tomorrow.” 

I stood up, stretched and gathered my clothes, slinging them over my shoulder and muttering,

“Party pooper.”


	15. Betrayal

“The Bowery King is requesting your presence, Mr. Wick.” A voice announced quietly from the darkness. Starting a bit, I opened my eyes and looked in the direction of the voice. A young man stood in the doorway, a patch covering his eye, and a crutch under one arm. He waited patiently for a moment before I nodded to him, and he stepped out of the room. 

Next to me, an angel rested, her naked body pressed against mine, her breath softly moving in and out of partly opened lips. Gently, I ran my hands over her hair, and kissed the top of her head before moving to get out of bed. 

Suddenly, I felt a quick grasp on my wrist and I looked over my shoulder at Natalia, her beautiful eyes wide open and looking up at me.

“Going somewhere?” She smiled. I nodded, and she released me, watching me contentedly as I pulled on my clothes.

“Bowery King.” I grunted, adjusting my shirt and tie. Natalia sat up ramrod straight, pulling her sweater up to cover herself.

“Kakogo cherta on khochet?” She sneered.

“I don’t know what he wants.” I responded to her, pulling on my jacket.

“I don’t trust him.” And she was smart not to. The Bowery King was neither friend nor foe. He was whoever he needed to be for the time being, and he was who he needed to be either for whomever paid the most or whom ever he felt like supporting at the time. I nodded to let her know that I understood what she meant.

“I’ll be back.” And with that, I left the room, meeting up with the kid in the eyepatch.

***

“I trust your stay has been—enjoyable?” The Bowery King’s lips twitched at that statement, the sense of humor and knowing in his voice evident.

“What do you need?” I sat down on the ratted chair next to him, accepting a cup of coffee in a tin cup from the eyepatch boy.

“Nothing particularly—just a bit of your time.” He smiled at me, and immediately my senses went on alert. I sat forward a little more, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, letting me know that something was wrong.

“I’m listening.” 

The Bowery King leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“I know we have quite a bit of history. Some good—most bad.” He folded his hands around the coffee mug pensively. “And in all that time, I feel like I really have come to know what to expect from you.”

“It’s not much of a mystery. Either I have a job to do, and I do it, or I do what I need to survive. You just always seem to cross my path.” I noted. A spark of disagreement flashed in his eyes, and he set his jaw, thrusting the coffee mug toward eyepatch boy, who fumbled for it. The Bowery King sat forward, leaning toward me. 

“You have quite a sum that is being offered for your head.” A dark chuckle emanated throughout the room. I knew he was baiting me, but I wasn’t sure why. “There are a lot of things a man like me could do with a few million dollars.”

“True.” 

“But your little Russian has an even bigger sum on her head, and a man willing to pay extra to bring her in alive.” His grin widened into an almost Cheshire-like smile. I felt my blood pressure rising quickly at that statement, but I reminded myself calm down. I needed to figure out what game he was playing.

“Who might that be?”

“Don’t play coy with me.”

I leaned back in my chair, taking a sip of my coffee, before setting the cup down on the makeshift table next to me.

“Nikolai.”

“The very same.” 

“Why do you think we’re here?”

“I knew where you were going the moment you got here, but I’m not so sure you’ll be leaving the same way that you came.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’ll be going alone.”

I felt my stomach drop at that statement, and I realized what was going on.

“What did you do?” I growled. The Bowery King smiled at that and a maniacal laugh echoed throughout the room as he threw his head, succumbing to the laughter.

Immediately I felt myself running through the corridors to Avgust, slamming the door open to his shock.

“Chto sluchilos’?” He spat, immediately beginning to arm himself.

“Is she with you?” I felt the panic start to raise in my chest.

“Ty, blyad’. This had better be a joke.” He started toward me menacingly, stopping when he was toe to toe with me.

“Do I fucking look like I’m joking?” I held my ground, knowing this anger was coming more from a place of worry. Avgust threw a quick jab at me and shoved me into the wall, running out of the room at full speed toward Natalia’s room. I adjusted my suit and stalked out of the room toward the room that Natalia and I had shared.

Before I got to the the room, I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, praying to god that Natalia wasn’t laying in a pool of blood in the room. I centered myself, throwing up as many mental walls as I could before I realized that if she was, not even god himself could stop be from destroying anyone and everyone in my way before destroying myself. I wasn’t sure how I could respond in any other way because I couldn’t go through that feeling again.

I steadied myself for a moment, taking a deep breath before entering the room. I felt a small sense of relief at not seeing her there, but that relief was short lived, replaced by the sickening feeling of knowing she was alone with Nikolai. 

Avgust had already begun shaking down the room and investigating for any information that Natalia or anyone who had come for Natalia might have left. His men entered the room like shadows, searching every square inch of the room for anything that would give them more information. Avgust picked up the blankets, searching around and under them as images of last night flickered through my mind—her face, her body, her voice, her smile. 

Avgust returned with a black card between his index and middle finger, handing it to me. I examined the card, reading the glittering blood red writing on it: Komnata Ruzh. The Rouge Room. I knew to well—an underground bar that was only open to members of the Russian Mafia, particularly those associated with the Kuznetsova family. It was close to the Kuznetsova compound, and in fact, it was connected to it by a series of corridors beneath the compound.

“This is not going to end well.” Avgust stated simply. “There are very few exits in and out of the bar. If you’re going in, commit to the fact that you likely won’t be coming out.”

“I’ll manage.” I tucked the card into my jacket pocket. 

“If you do make it out alive, remind me to leave you a parting gift for losing her in the first place.” Avgust told me. I smirked a little, nodding and Avgust clapped my shoulder.

“Pozvoni ostal’nym. Pora.” Avgust nodded, and the men nodded in response. They filed out as one.

Call the others. It’s time.


	16. Arsenic and Whiskey

Ch. 16  
After John left, I slid out of bed, pulling on my black tights, boots, and sweaters. I combed my hair out with my fingers, and was just getting ready to put my holster on when a flicker of movement caught my eye. I froze, my head cautiously turning to the side, where I found myself staring down the barrel of a pistol. My blood ran cold for a moment, as I stood completely motionless, ramrod straight.

“I’ll need you to come with me.” That voice. I recognized it. I looked over the top of the pistol and saw a man with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He had worked in the compound with my family for years before my father died. Now, I suppose, he worked for Nikolai.

“Kak vas zovut?” I tried to sound authoritative, and that initiative was received with a sharp pistol whip to the face.

“You don’t need to know my name. Move.” He growled. I dabbed the corner of my mouth, where a bit of blood had begun to pool up. At this point, it was better to do as I was told. I had no authority with these men. Two more men appeared behind him and patted me down for weapons, before I was prodded with the butt of an automatic rifle, and I followed the sandy haired man.

We walked through endless mazes of corridors. I had no idea how extensive the Bowery King’s reach truly was until that very moment. Finally, we happened upon a room that I knew well. The deep cherry wood bar sat in the middle of the room, a nod to my father, who was obsessed with the rich color, which could be seen in the chairs, stools, and tables around the room. Behind the bar, an enormous set of cherry wood floating shelves adorned the wall, stacked with a variety of high and low end liquors and illuminated by a glittering red light behind them. Around the room, deep crimson booths adorned the walls, classic art pieces hung to accessorize the deep wood paneled walls, golden lights and candles hanging along the wall.

A haze of cigar smoke floated lazily through the room, swirling around the men, and an instant chill ran down my spine.

“Well,” a voice called from a dimly lit booth. “If it isn’t the lost little Russian printsessa.”

He leaned forward, his face illuminated by the dim golden candlelight, and there he was—my brother—the boy I had grown up with, laughed with and cried with, and now the one who was ready to murder me for money.

“Nikolai. I would say, ‘Good to see you.’ But that would be a lie.” I smirked at him. He took another puff of his cigar, smiling at me, the smoke coming out of his mouth and nose.

“You should really quit those. They’ll kill you.” I scolded him. Nikolai looked over at the man behind me lazily and nodded. I received a sharp blow to the back of the head with the butt of a gun that startled me and winded me at the same time. The world spun for a second, bright lights fading in and out of existence before I steadied myself.

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about what’s going to kill you.” He put his cigar down on the ash tray, and stood up.

“And here this whole time I thought it would be you especially considering you killed our father without any hesitation.” The bitterness in my voice gave my demeanor toward him away, and I felt a blow to the back of my legs, forcing me to come crashing down to my knees.

“Eto pravda, sister.” He circled me like lion circling his prey. “But I consider myself a merciful man.”

I scoffed at that statement, and then burst out into unconstrained laughter. Nikolai’s face turned grim at this. He rared back with his pistol and whipped it across my face. I turned away, feeling blood instantly pooling up on my lip, my cheek and eye swelling. I dabbed at the blood, and turned back to him with a smile on my face.

“Is this what you’ve brought me here for? To beat me? Come now, brother. People will call you bitter and say you actually cared for me if you keep this up.” My desire to bait him was uncontrollable, boiling up from endless nights replaying my father’s death on my head.

“Maybe I did.” He pondered. “And if I’m being honest, maybe a part of me still does. Regardless, sestra, I’m afraid my many affections and the affections of others would likely fall on deaf ears. It seems your attention is with another man is it not?”

I set my jaw, my mouth forming a thin line at the mention of John. At that, Nikolai laughed, putting his hands on his knees and bending down like he was speaking to a child.

“Oh my, malyshka! Have I hit a nerve?” 

“Yebat’ tebaya!” I spat in his face.

“Ty malen’kaya suka!” I felt another blow to the back of the head from one of the guards. He grabbed my hair pulling my head back and sneered into my ear, “Learn your place.”

“No, no, Mihail,” Nikolai smiled. “Besides, fuck me? I don’t think I could ever extend such a pleasure to a woman who’s already fucking John Wick.”

My head was pounding after the merciless blows being dealt to my head, and I felt dizzy at this point. I was shocked I was even still awake after that.

“But even so,” Nikolai continued, “You are my sister, after all, and I would like to offer you a deal.”

I was wary of taking deals with Nikolai at this point, but I was going to die anyway, so why not see what his genius plan was.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the deal?”

“One way or another, you’re going to die. This empire and that position as the high chair belongs to me. And in order for me to claim it, you have to die. But no one else has to die in the process.” I felt my stomach drop for a moment at this explanation. I hadn’t considered the ramifications of everyone else wrapped up in my mess. 

“What are the terms?” I needed clarity. I wanted to know he would live. I needed it.

“I lift the excommunicado and bounty from John Wick. We shut down the operation, and he can go back to living his life and mourning his lost wife and maybe even you.” Nikolai said.

“He will come for you.” I felt like the words were barely audible at this point.

“And I’ll be long gone before he can find me. We have ties to the government. We know special operatives, Natalia. It’s easy to disappear.” He shrugged.

“And...” I swallowed. “And what about Avy?”

“Avgust was doing what he was paid to do. I see no reason to kill a man doing what he was hired to do.” He knelt down to my level, speaking to me eye to eye.

“How do I know you won’t reinstate the excommunicado?” I felt nauseated, like everything had led up to this, and here I was, about to die, and I just wasn’t ready yet.

“My word is my bond. Have I ever lied to you before?” He hadn’t, but when life and death were in the line, the pressure was nearly insurmountable. I had to be sure. “If you agree, and you shake my hand, your word is your bond. I will lift the excommunicado in front of you and remove the bounty before you even commit the act.”

I knew it was a better deal than I could have ever hoped for.

“How will I die?” I looked him in the eyes, trying to muster up every ounce of strength I could. I was afraid, but I couldn’t let him know that.

“Well, that’s up to you.” He shrugged, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Do you want to see him again?”

“Yes.” It was selfish, and I knew it was, but Nikolai and his idiot guards couldn’t be the last thing I ever saw. It had to be him. Nikolai reached inside of his jacket pocket and produced a little vial of white powder.

“Arsenic. A strong compound. Virtually tasteless when combined with food and drink. You won’t die instantly, and you will suffer, but you will die by the end of the night.” He promised. I took the bottle with shaking hands and Nikolai took both of my hands in his, holding them for a moment. I studied the bottle in my hands.

“I want a double shot of cinnamon whiskey.” I demanded.

“Wise choice.” He consented. He snapped his fingers and his guards poured a hefty shot into a crystal glass, handing it to him. Nikolai handed it to me, and I popped the top off of the vial, pouring the arsenic into the glass.

“The excommunicado and the bounty.” I demanded. Nikolai pulled his phone out, calling a number, handing me the phone.

“You are still in charge.” He told me. A woman answered on the other line.

“Lift the excommunicado and the bounty on John Wick.” My breath was shaking.

“Time?” She asked lazily.

“Right fucking now.” It came out a little more forcefully than I had intended.

“Hold please.” She sighed. Before I knew it, every cell phone in the room pinged, including the one I was holding.

“It’s done.” She said. I hung up the phone, handing it back to Nikolai. He nodded.

“Do it.” He commanded. I felt a lump raise up in my throat. He reached out, touching my cheek, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I nodded, wiping the tears away, lifting the glass to my lips, and feeling the liquid burn down the back of my throat. At that, I threw the glass and it shattered against the bar.

Nikolai stood up, nodding to his men in the room and grunted,

“Move out.”


	17. You Don’t Have a Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me on this journey. I’m so glad you’re still reading, and I’m really enjoying putting this story together.

Ch. 17  
Moving through the tunnels toward the bar was an agonizing process, and not because it was difficult, but because cutting through numerous Russian guards was wasting precious minutes that I needed to get to her. Sitting in the darkness of the corridors and stepping over each of the slain men, a new sound occurred to me: a dozen or so little cell phone pings going off all at once. This could only mean a message from the high table.

“Vot der’mo!” Avgust hissed to my surprise, and without warning, he took off like a shot. “Idiotka!”

A new sense of dread flooded through me, and it made me feel like I wanted to vomit. It wasn’t often that a man like Avgust made rash decisions, and I sprinted after him, pausing as we reached the corner, and he pressed against the wall, preparing to enter the blind corner.

“What happened?” My voice was low, and I felt a stab of worry.

“Your bounty and excommunicado have been lifted.” Avgust was worried and rightfully so. “Natalia is the only one who can do that, but she doesn’t know how to contact the high table. The only one privy to that knowledge is Nikolai.”

“Why would Nikolai help her do that?” My stomach dropped instantly at this thought. She was already alone with him, and he was playing a game. 

Avgust reloaded his weapons, nodding to what was left of his men as they approached the door ahead of him. Both of the men stealthily checked the door for any signs of traps or cameras, and nodded to Avgust. Rearing back, he kicked the door open, flying through the doors with guns aimed, and I followed on his heels. 

The room was empty and eerily silent, a blue hue from the lights drowning the room in a moonlit glow. Avgust’s men cleared the room and each of the corners quickly as we went on to examine what was left of the room. Immediately, my eyes flickered over the shards of glass near the bar where a cup had been shattered. I moved to the bar to investigate, picking up the glass and examining it, smelling it briefly. As I stood up, I saw two bare feet coming out from under the bar on the other side. 

I nodded to Avgust and motioned toward the bar, both of us raising our weapons and heading around the corner. That’s when I saw her, and all of my worst nightmares came to fruition. Instantly, my arms found themselves around her body, clinging her close to me. Her face was a pale white, blood running down her chin over her chest. Her hands were covered with blood as well, and she was trembling wildly. It was clear she had been battered as her left eye was nearly swollen shut and there was blood matted in the back of her hair.

“John.” She smiled, reaching up and touching my face with shaking fingers. Instinctively, i leaned into her touch, taking her hand and kissing it. “I was worried I wasn’t going to get to see you again.”

Garlic. The slightest hint of it was laced within her breath, and a panic overwhelmed me.

“What did you do?” I whispered into her ear, cradling her body in my arms.

“Nothing much. I had a drink with my brother.” 

“What was in the drink?”

“Whiskey...and...”

“Arsenic.” Avgust finished the statement for her, holding up a vial and examining it.

“Why did you drink it?” I found myself scolding her, but yet stroking her hair at the same time. I hugged her close to me, flashbacks of Helen’s hospital stay coming into my mind.

“Because I was going to die no matter what.” My heart just about leaped out of my chest and shattered into a million pieces hearing her say that.

“You’re not going to die.” My voice was a lot gruffer than I had intended for it to be.

“I have to, John.” She heaved, pushing me away, then leaning away to vomit, retching as more blood was let out of her mouth and onto the floor.

“You’re going to the hospital.” I grabbed her arm, throwing it over my neck.

“No.” She pushed me away with all of her might, falling to the floor. Avgust set his jaw in anger and concern at her carelessness.

“Stop being stubborn, Natalia.” He chastised, nodding toward his men. 

“No! If I go, both of you die.” She yelled, her voice straining, tired eyes glinting in frustration. “I can’t let that happen.”

“Listen.” Avgust got on her level, taking her hand, trails of blood and tears streaming down her face. “My whole life has been for you, Natalia. I have lived to protect you. That’s my purpose in life. If I don’t have you, what do I do then? You can’t take away my meaning and expect me not to fight for it.”

“Avy.” Natalia reached out, holding his hand and touching his face. 

“I don’t care what they do to me, but I can’t live with knowing that they did this to you, and I could have stopped it, but I didn’t.” Avgust put her hand to his heart. 

“I can’t.” Natalia wept, touching his face.

“You don’t have a choice.” I growled, picking her up, and throwing her over my shoulder much to Avgust’s dismay. Avgust stumbled, catching up with me. Natalia writhed and screamed, her voice straining as a new wave of blood laden vomit cake careening from her mouth. 

“Fuck you, John! Fuck you!” She shrieked, fighting me. 

“You already did.” I grumbled, slapping her behind and stalking toward the exit.

“I’m going to kill you for that.” Avgust growled, and I smirked in his direction. “You few, go ahead.” Avgust ordered his men, and at that, they started ahead, clearing the way toward the hospital.

***

The steady beeping of the EKG monitor drowned out the silence as I sat next to Natalia in the little hospital chair. Everything in the room seemed so sterile and light, white walls, white ceiling, white bed, fluorescent white lamps, white hospital gown on a girl that was as pale as a ghost herself.

Each time a nurse or doctor walked in to check on her, he/she seemed momentarily started by the sharp contrast of a man in a dark suit sitting next to the angel in the hospital bed.

I glanced up from the chair to see a doctor pause at the door after recognizing me and continue on her way around the bed, reading Natalia’s chart and eyeing me suspiciously.

“What can you tell me?” My voice was cold and quiet, and I couldn’t look her in the eyes. She eyed me again, double checking the chart to make sure she could speak to me. Avgust worked his magic to ensure that I was listed with him as a family member with the according paperwork. 

“The poison has done a number on several of her organs. Her body had begun the process of shutting down. We have pumped her stomach, but it’s clear the poison had been in her system for a few hours before you made it to us.” She explained, sighing.

“Is she going to die?” The directness of the question seemed to take the doctor aback, and she glared at me for a moment.

“I’m not sure. We put her into a medically induced coma to help her body recover. It’s too soon to say right now.” I felt it like a shock to the system. Flashbacks of Helen’s last moments in the hospital stirred up unwanted emotions, and I choked back an unwanted and surprising sob, clearing my throat. The doctor closed Natalia’s chart and walked over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Have faith, Mr. Wick.” She said, patting me on the shoulder before leaving the room, nodding to Avgust who was just entering.

“Chto noven’kogo?” He asked, his eyes lingering on Natalia.

“She’s in a medically induced coma. Her organs are shutting down, and her stomach has been pumped. It’s a waiting game now.” I told him. He nodded, sitting at her bedside. He took a brush from the bedside table and began brushing her hair, gently, flattening little pieces in a sort of affectionate petting motion. It was such a strange thing to see a hardened special operative do. I looked away, doing my best to give him privacy.

“YA sobirayus’ razorvat’ yego na chasti.” His voice was calm, dead calm, and his hands were shaking with fury. He leaned forward, pressing his lips on her forehead, and every movement that he made echoed the sentiment that he had just uttered. I’m going to rip him apart.


	18. Rooftop Assault

Ch. 18  
I knew when Avgust was silent that he was not a man to be trifled with, and the moment we left the hospital, he fell into a deep silence. One of his men stopped me at the entrance of the hospital and said,

“Avgust asked me to let you know that he will meet with you in front of the Bowery Theater at 10 sharp. Take this time to prepare however necessary, Mr. Wick.”

I nodded and he disappeared into the night. Two hours. I turned on my heel and headed back into the hospital to see doctors scrambling frantically toward the elevator, some toward the doors and the words, 

“Code blue.”

Echoing in the hallways. At that, I ran alongside the doctors toward the room of emergency only to find myself outside of Natalia’s room, her frail body convulsing as blood poured out of her mouth and onto the bed.

“She’s seizing! Defrib! Code blue! Code blue!” The doctors swarmed around her as her EKG shrieked a straight high pitched whine. I backed against the wall, watching her struggle, and I couldn’t help but cover my mouth with my hand as the doctors buzzed over her, rubbing the defibrillators together, and shouting,

“Clear!”

Before sending an electric shock through her body. Again, Natalia seized, her heart rate flatlining once again.

“No pulse. Stand back! Clear!”

A second shock, and a sputtering beating from the EKG.

“Faint pulse.”

I found myself gasping for breath, tears stinging my eyes as I slumped down to the floor, putting my head in my hands.

***

Sitting next to Natalia having nearly watched her die was a surreal experience. Hands trembling, I reached out and held her hand, kissing it briefly.

“I will make him suffer for this.” I told her, kissing her hand again, listening to the steady beating of her EKG and the labored breathing from her parted lips. The tears were coming sporadically from my eyes now despite my best efforts to stave them off. “Just please. Please don’t die. I don’t want to do this without you.”

I stood, kissing her forehead. I was afraid to leave her—worried whether I would come back to find an empty bed and her belongings waiting for me. It took everything I had in me to walk away from her, but I had to do this.

For her.

***

“We’re going to a party.” Avgust informed me as I slid into the car next to him.

“Where?”

“Sky Bar. Angels and Devils party.” He put his phone in his jacket pocket and nodded to his men, who were already prepared to depart.

“Fitting.” I said dryly. Avgust nodded, handing a file over to me, giving me a moment to do my research on the party. I combed through the resources to find this it was an ascension party. Essentially, Nikolai had wasted no time announcing his position to the rest of the underground world. No doubt, this party would be heavily secured, so I wasn’t really sure what Avgust had in mind, but I had a feeling stealth would be required if we wanted to make it out alive.

“I have a few men on the inside who can get us entry through the underground.” He explained. “From there, it will be a matter of finding him and ending him.”

I nodded. Part of me worried that his emotions could potentially cause him to make reckless decisions, but I had no doubt there were other times that emotions were involved that made Avgust even deadlier.

“Here.” Avgust handed me a tiny, black earpiece. “This is linked to me and me men. You will be able to speak to us and hear from us.”

I nodded again in thanks as Avgust checked his guns, carefully inspecting them.

“You love her, no?” Avgust quietly asked. It caught me off guard, and I glanced over at him, saying.

“What?”

“Ne igray tupoy.” Avgust’s voice was deathly calm as he looked at me, waiting for an answer. I looked away, an extreme sense of discomfort and annoyance overcoming me.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” I growled, and Avgust grinned at me, looking out the window.

“Mal’chik,” Avgust smiled, “there is no shame in loving someone—especially if that woman is Natalia. She’s a good woman, John.”

“I know she is.” I felt a strange lump rise in the back of my throat that I wasn’t prepared for. I took a deep breath and pushed her from my mind. I couldn’t focus on her right now. I needed to be fully focused on the task at hand.

***

Getting into the Sky Bar was going to be a daunting task. Even though we had help on the inside once we made it in, the difficult part was going to be actually getting in in the first place. There weren’t many entrances that wouldn’t attract a lot of attention and most of the area was well lit, since it was downtown, eliminating a total stealth mission. There were snipers on several of the roofs, so going by ground was impossible. The only viable option would be going by roof. The issue at hand was that there were snipers watching all directions, so we would have to move with what little shadows we had on the sides with the tallest skyscrapers.

We started about a mile away from the bar, which was located at the top of a prestigious hotel. Avgust sent scouts ahead to determine the best route for us to take and to take out any of the men who happened to be unfortunate enough to be in their path. He had brought with him his personal guard, all of whom were ex-special operatives, and all of whom were ghosts to the rest of the world.

Urban Warfare—particularly when it came to super surfaces—was not on my list of favorite things to do when adhering to a mission. It required a lot of energy exertion, making exhaustion a very real danger in a case like this. Besides that, the threat of explosives being rigged presented an even wider array of issues to deal with. 

“Deploying drones.” I heard a gruff voice say in my ear. In the distance, I spotted a tiny black figure lifting off of one of the rooftops. These drones were constructed to locate bombs and scan the area for motion activated instruments. 

Another drone lifted off of the roof, and this one was a monitoring drone to see who and how many we would have to deal with between here and out point of entry.

“Five heat signatures on the roof of the cantina across the street. Five heat signatures on the eastern and western adjoining conference centers. Twelve heat signatures on the roof of the hotel.” The disembodied voice explained.

“Pravil’no.” Avgust said, looking over at me. “Clear the roofs left and right. John and I will move in to take the roof within eyeshot.”

“Kopiya.” The voice affirmed. I waited a moment before seeing two quick bursts come from silenced guns, and Avgust took off at a run, leaping across the rooftops. At a sprint, I pulled my pistol from my holster, equipping the silencer. As I leapt across the gap, I fired two quick shots in succession, pulling the third man off the roof. Avgust took two men out with clean headshots before pausing to collect ammunition and a radio from one of them. 

“John, take the sniper rifle.” Avgust ordered, and although I disliked taking orders, I picked up the rifle, and focused it on the roof of the main building, seeing the men lazily patrolling the roof.

“Quick shots. Taking two men, quick shots, northeast corner.” I growled into the mic. The men muttered their affirmations.

“In 3, 2, 1, fire.” Avgust ordered. Two quick triggers, and red rain showered across the roof as the men fell in quick succession.

“Check.” One of Avgust’s men moved toward the rooftop, and in a quick gazelle-like hop, he was across the roof, checking the pulses of each of the men, and executing a few quick headshots to any men still alive.

“Clear.” He said into the mic. We followed suit, heading to the rooftop.

“Karine. Pora.” Avgust said into the mic. After a moment, the roof door opened, and there stood a voluptuous blonde. A strapless red dress with a deep V hugged her curves and a high slit adorned her thighs. Icy blue eyes fixed themselves on me as a pair of ruby red lips formed a devilish smile as she said,

“Hello, John.”

Avgust cast a sharp glance at me, and growled,

“Chto proiskhodit? Do you two know each other?”

“Oh yes.” She said, looking me up and down with a predatory hunger. “Intimately.”

Oh fuck.


	19. Karine and Angus

Ch. 19  
Making our way through the service area on the roof section of the hotel was a bit of an unnerving experience especially because the man killer herself, Karine, was the one who was accompanying us on our task.

Karine had a fetish for killing men and hurting them. She was a bit of a dominatrix, and she had no loyalties to anyone but herself. She enjoyed her freedom and her mercenary status, and she especially enjoyed her ability to come and go as she pleased whenever and wherever she pleased, which is why I worried about her presence as part of our well oiled machine.

“We can’t trust her.” I told Avgust as we rechecked our gear again. Karine glances over her shoulder and grinned, sauntering over to me and saying,

“Oh, John. I’m hurt. I thought we had something special.”

“What makes you think she won’t turn on us?” I asked over her shoulder, and Avgust glanced over at me and then over at his men.

“Because I have a personal vendetta against the Kuznetsova family—particularly Nikolai.” She shrugged. I glared at her for a moment more and she met my eyes with an intense stare of her own. 

“Ladno, John. Karine.” Avgust growled. I nodded, my mouth forming a thin line of annoyance, and Karine smirked, walking away from me.

“Karine. You are our point woman. Since Nikolai knows both John and myself, it would be better for you to carry out the first phase of our operation.” Avgust explained. At this point, I felt even more annoyed at the fact that he had assigned her with a task that was so vital, but I understand why.

“You will be have a mic and a camera on you.” Avgust said, handing her a necklace, which she put on. “You will need to gain Nikolai’s trust and get him alone in a bedroom with only one exit. From there, our job will be simple, but we have to move quickly. With the guards being down, it won’t be long until they realize something is off.”

“Got it.” Karine nodded, pulling a compact mirror out of her purse and reapplying her lipstick, spritzing a few more sprays of perfume.

“We will wait here until we receive the signal or have visual that you are heading toward the bedroom. One of my men will accompany you into the party.” Avgust mentioned, nodding to one of his men.

“Done.” Karine said. “Let’s go, Angus.”

“Mena novut ne Angus.” He dryly responded.

“I don’t care what your name is.” Karine retorted. “You’re big and bulky, so I’m calling you Angus.”

Angus rolled his eyes, grumbling,

“Otvali.”

“Fuck off? Really? That’s a terrible way to treat a lady.” Karine griped, clearly trying to agitate Angus. 

“Listen, pesky woman,” Angus growled in a thick Russian accent, “I don’t really give a shit whether you’re man or woman, but if you keep this up, I will throw you across this room, and find another pretty woman to take your place when I break you.”

There was nothing that Karine got off on more than pissing off men who were four times her size and shattering their fragile egos. So, when Angus threatened her, I could see Karine’s face light up like a tiny psycho at Christmas, as she grinned, pulling a blade out of her cleavage.

“Sumasshedshaya suka.” Angus turned toward her, ready to deflect her.

“Dovol’no.” Avgust’s voice was firm and sharp and both Angus and Karine turned to look at him. “The last thing that we need right now is for you two to injure yourselves. It would raise a lot of unnecessary questions.”

“Well, for one of us it would.” Karine poked. She turned to look at me, a grin on her face and, upon making eye contact with me, looked swiftly away, her grin wiped instantaneously off of her face at one look. Angus shifted uncomfortably next to her.

“Mic test.” Avgust spoke into a smaller microphone. Karine nodded, putting her earpiece in and then nodded again at the sound of Avgust’s voice. She tested the mic on her end with a positive response. We checked the cameras one more times, and Karine and Angus were on their way.


End file.
